


Come Back to Me

by Evelyn6



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Amnesiac Belle, F/M, Rumbelle - Freeform, Rumple finds Belle, S01E22 rewrite, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7173401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evelyn6/pseuds/Evelyn6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dark Curse has been broken and the denizens of Storybrooke are having to adjust to life in the Land Without Magic while having two sets of memories. Amidst the chaos, a certain basement level of Storybrooke Hospital is discovered and, along with it, a young woman who holds a very special place in the local pawnbroker's heart.</p><p>A rewrite of the season one reunion between Belle and Rumplestiltskin. COMPLETE, BUT ACCEPTING PROMPTS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure that several versions of this have been written before, but I am doing a season one rewatch for the hiatus and I still find myself wishing that Gold had been the one to discover Belle in the hospital basement and that they had brought her memories back together rather than the curse breaking and awakening them for her. So, I wrote this. Hope you all enjoy :)
> 
> A few notes: Regina wasn't nearly as nice in this story as she was in canon. Fair warning. Also, I altered the way the Curse was broken and the way magic is brought back to Storybrooke, mostly because I wanted to be able to focus on Rumbelle without worrying about Rumple's quest to return magic.

Considering how long Rumplestiltskin had spent creating the Dark Curse and training Regina to cast it, its destruction was a rather quick affair. The savior, Emma Swan, had arrived just as he foretold, bundled up in a shell of cynicism that turned out to be little match for a ten year old with green eyes and a fondness for fairytales. Rumplestiltskin couldn't blame her for falling head over heels for her estranged son. Even he was fond of Henry Mills, and he wasn't fond of _anyone_. Not for a long time now.

A simple kiss (if True Love's kiss could be called such a thing) to young Henry's forehead and his carefully crafted curse had fallen apart at the seams, and all of Regina's lofty plans of revenge had come crumbling down with it.

He almost felt a pang of sympathy for his former apprentice. Almost.

The feeling fled rather quickly as he entered the sheriff's station where one ex-Mayor Mills was currently residing in a small cell and looking positively furious with the recent turn of events. She had leveled a glare at him that could have set most people aflame. But not him. No, he had just grinned, one of those impish things that made him feel so like the beast he had been back in the Enchanted Forest.

The sheriff herself had been absent, no doubt off wandering the good streets of Storybrooke trying to get a handle on the chaos that must be ensuing around town as people awoke to their old selves. Never one to waste an opportunity, he'd poked a few snide comments at the Queen, tried not to gloat (but not really) and left with a smug smirk that was still present as he walked down Main Street in the direction of his beloved pawn shop.

It had taken twenty eight years, but his curse had succeeded and his beloved Baelfire was nearly within his reach. All he had to do was wait for magic to return. He could feel it in the air, like an approaching storm or a word you couldn't quite grasp at the tip of your tongue. There was the faintest crackle at his fingertips, a spark that could only be magic attempting to find its way home, and he knew it wouldn't be long now.

He took a deep breath of the night air, releasing it in a stream of smoke that whispered through the night as his cane tapped steadily against the sidewalk and his overcoat swished around his knees. The walk to the shop led him past the Storybrooke Hospital, and he paused in his step, his interest piqued, when he saw a small collection of familiar faces outside. He spotted the red leather jacket and beanie that announced the Savior, and the tall figure beside her had to be David Nolan. The good Doctor Whale was standing off to the side looking like someone had just caught him with his hand in the cookie jar- hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders slumped, gaze riveted to the floor. It was this, more than anything, that drew Gold’s curiosity.

He made a small detour up the sidewalk. No one seemed to notice him as he walked by, but he’d had the foresight to lighten the tap of his cane, ever familiar with the art of going unnoticed. He lightened his breath and perked his ears to catch a bit of their conversation.

“You should see the conditions she was kept in, much less the condition _she’s_ in,” Emma was saying, her voice clipped and filled with concern as she spoke to David. "I know Regina's the Evil Queen and all, but I never expected her to be capable of _this_."

David tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. “Look, we’ll get this figured out."

Gold snickered under his breath. Always the reassuring hero, that one.

Emma didn’t look convinced, but David continued calmly. “What have you been able to find out?"

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Emma shook her head, her brow pinched with worry. “We can’t get her out of the room and she hasn’t told us anything. I’m not even sure she can. She has to have family though, right? Maybe she’s related to the florist."

At that, Gold froze mid-step a few feet away.

The florist. Moe French. Sir Maurice. He was...

“Miss Swan, what are you talking about?” he said suddenly, his voice rough and insistent and immediately catching their attention.

Whale's head shot up so fast that Gold could have sworn he heard something crack, but that was nothing compared to the look of utter fear on his face when he saw the pawnbroker standing nearby. Gold narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but his attention was more focused on Emma at present.

She was frowning at him, sizing him up with distrust in her gaze as she no doubt wondered after his real identity and the role he had played in all of this. He didn’t have time for that, though. He needed to know what they were talking about and how it related to Moe French.

“We found a girl locked in the hospital basement,” Emma relayed slowly.

_A girl._

“Why do you think she’s related to the florist?” he asked impatiently, trying and failing not to appear too interested in the answer.

Thankfully, Emma didn't seem to be in the mood to question him. “The file on the door says ‘French’ on it. His name’s Moe French, right? Gold?"

He didn’t even wait for her to finish before he darted inside the hospital faster than any man with a limp probably had the right to. As it was, his ankle was likely screaming in protest, but he didn't feel it in the slightest. He felt nothing except for adrenaline surging through his veins, could hear nothing except the blood pounding in his ears, drowned only by his own voice in his head.

_It couldn’t be… It couldn’t be..._

It wasn’t until he was halfway inside the lobby that he realized he had no idea where the entrance to the basement was. Luckily, he spotted a few of the dwarves standing beside an open door down a nearby corridor looking dubiously out of place and he hurled himself in that direction. Leroy looked as if he might protest but the scowl Gold shot him seemed to make him think twice and he shoved his way past them without a word.

The door opened into a set of stairs that led him down to a dark, musty corridor that smelled overwhelmingly of antiseptic and something too much like death. He had to swallow hard to relieve the knot of anticipation that was curling in his chest as he reached the bottom and passed by an empty nurse's station.

The floor was a stark contrast to the bright white tile upstairs. His feet tapped against hard cement as he made his way down a dingy hall lined with doors that more closely resembled those of the dungeon at the Dark Castle than anything that should be in a hospital. He felt a chill creep down his spine as he followed the sound of voices to the end of the hall where one of the thick, steel doors was being propped open by a tall brunette that may have been Ruby. He couldn’t be bothered to make sure when a soft whimpering reached his ears and made his heart pound in his chest.

His steps didn’t slow until he reached the open doorway. He peered inside, his eyes frantic to take in the sight before him, to find _her_.

The room was dark. He had to blink a few times just to make out the shape of a small cot that sat in one corner. As far as he could tell, it was the only piece of furniture in the room, if it could be called that much. It was barely more than a cement box. There was a tiny window far up on one wall, no bigger than a large book and lined with metal bars. That was the only source of light save for the small bulbs that lined the hall outside.

Just as his eyes were beginning to adjust, a voice caught his attention and he noticed Mary Margaret crouched a few feet away speaking softly, her hands gesturing as if to coax someone forward. She stopped when she spotted him, her eyes widening with a mixture of caution and surprise. He heard the patter of footsteps that announced that the others had finally caught up, but his attention was riveted elsewhere.

Because there, huddled in the corner, was a tiny figure in a worn hospital gown. She was mumbling something, the words muffled by the fabric of her gown as she pressed her face into her knees, her arms wrapped around herself. He couldn’t make out her features; just a small form and a mass of dark hair shivering in the shadows.

“Gold, you shouldn’t be-" Emma tried to warn him quietly.

He waved a hand impatiently in her direction, his eyes never leaving the woman in the corner. He took a few steps toward her; slow, careful.

“Belle?” The syllable, barely more than a whisper, still seemed to reverberate off the hard walls.

The girl in the corner froze, the room going silent as she stopped muttering and, a few seconds later, slowly lowered her hands. She lifted her forehead from her knees and her hair fell back from her face slightly, but the shadows were too dark to make out her features. Her eyes. He needed to see her eyes.

He sank to his knees, ignoring the burst of pain from his ankle at the awkward position and completely disregarding the filthy state of the floor in favor of getting closer to her. He set his cane aside quietly, glad that he hadn’t dropped it in his haste lest he spooked her. She looked like she might flee at the slightest provocation, her body tense.

“Belle?” he tried again, his voice as soft as he could make it, but it cracked over the name. Her name. A name he hadn’t dared to utter in years for the pain that always lanced through his heart at the sound of it on his tongue. A name he nevertheless woke up crying into the dark of his bedroom, his voice full of regret and longing.

He dared not hope as he knelt on the damp concrete, not even when the girl in front of him tilted her head slightly, as if considering the name or the sound of his voice. _She’s gone. She’s not coming back_ , he repeated to himself, trying to will still the fluttering in his heart, the warmth that was blooming in his chest even as he tried to hold it back. Because it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be her.

But then she turned in his direction and his gaze locked onto a pair of stunningly blue eyes. Eyes that had haunted him as Rumplestiltskin and then as Mr. Gold, and then as Rumplestiltskin again. Eyes so blue he never had been able to believe they weren't the result of some kind of magic. Eyes he knew perhaps better than his own. At the sight of them, his shoulders slumped, an undignified and broken whimper escaping his throat as he looked upon her face, her features more precious to him than every trinket in his shop combined, every fiber of gold thread he had ever spun; features he never thought he would look upon again. _Her_ eyes. _Her_ face.

Belle.


	2. Chapter 2

Belle.  _His_  Belle. The woman he loved with every inch of his unworthy heart, and felt as if he had loved for as long as he could remember. She was here. She was alive.

His hands shook with the need to reach for her, to touch her, to reassure himself that he wasn’t imagining her as he had so many times before. He had to curl them into fists by his knees just to resist it. She still looked like she might bolt and the last thing in the world he wanted to do was frighten her. Oh, but it was agony to wait, to let his heart war between disbelief and relief and above all the need to touch her, this vision before him. But instead he sat, still, letting her beautiful eyes take him in and narrow as they roamed over his face just as his traveled over hers.

And the wait was worth it.

A moment later, she pushed away from the wall and shuffled toward him, her bare feet curling against the icy floor, her gaze hesitant but not fearful as she came closer. His own eyes refused to leave her, filling with tears as she neared him. With every inch of closed distance, he could make out her features better, taking note of the dark circles around her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks with a pain that would have brought him to his knees were he not already on them. He didn't dare look anywhere else, terrified of what he would see. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on her face and tried to smile encouragingly. He was so out of practice, not to mention shaken, that it probably came out as more of a grimace. He let it fall, hoping she would see the warmth in his gaze instead.

She kept shuffling until she knelt before him, so close that her knee brushed against his. The small touch grounded him at the same time that it sent a wave of shock through his system. Even in his dreams he had never been able to touch her. Touch was real. She really was here. She was here and watching him with those magical blue eyes of hers and she hadn't immediately run away from him which he gathered was a good sign. She even reached out for him, her hand hovering over his cheek as if she was unsure of either herself or him and he wished he knew how to say something to reassure her. All he could manage to do was silently beg her to stay, to give him a chance.

At the first touch of her fingertips to his skin, the barest brush over his cheek, his eyes fluttered closed. Gods, but how he had yearned for her touch. In those miserable days after he had sent her away, he had been overwhelmed by just how present she had been in his life and thus how empty everything felt without her. The castle was no longer filled with the sound of her laughter, her humming as she read or prepared their tea. There was no soft patter of feet in the halls, nor the feeling of warmth that she somehow carried with her as she fluttered about. There were no smiles to bring that spark of light to his heart and, most of all, no soft touches to his arm or his shoulder to remind him that he meant anything to anyone. Her absence and the loneliness that filled him in its wake had broken him and the Queen's tale of her death (oh, he would make Regina pay for this) had shattered everything that was left.

Now she was here, her fingers as soft as he'd remembered them as they traced the curve of his cheek and along the length of his jaw with a touch so tender that his eyes were burning with unshed tears when he opened them again. Belle had her head tilted to the side and was looking at him thoughtfully, as if she was trying to see through him; see  _something_. He waited, his breath baited, daring to hope for the first time in so long.

“I tried…” she whispered in a voice that was hoarse from disuse, but unmistakably hers. Her beautiful blue eyes, always so bright, were troubled, almost pleading with him. "I tried so hard to remember," she cried as tears began to spill over her cheeks.

“Oh, Belle,” he cried, unable to help himself as he pulled her into his arms. She didn't resist. Rather, she curled into him, nestling against him as he wrapped his arms around her and held her as close as he dared. It didn't feel nearly close enough, but she was in his arms and he could smell the faintest trace of her in her hair and he wouldn't have traded it for anything.

She was thin, much too thin. His Belle was a tiny little thing already, but he could practically feel the outline of her ribs through his coat and the ridges of her spine against his hands. His throat constricted at the very thought of what she had been through, even more so when he realized that she was trembling against him.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Everything is going to be alright,” he promised, his lips brushing her hair.

Yes, he would do everything in his power to make sure that she was safe and cared for and happy from this moment on. He had made the dreadful mistake of not doing so the first time. He would not fail her again.

He drew back just enough so he could shrug out of his overcoat, uncaring of the chill now that he had something much more important to protect.

“Let’s get you out of here, shall we?" he suggested softly.

He waited for her to nod her consent before he got to his feet. It took some shuffling, and the pain in his ankle was definitely noticeable now, but he managed eventually. When he held his hand out for Belle, he found her staring at his feet, her brow furrowed. He followed her line of sight to his cane where he was leaning against it. When he met her eyes again, she was looking at him with confusion.

“You... you're not supposed to have that," she said softly.

His breath hitched at her words.  _She remembered_. Some part of her remembered. However her memories may have been distorted, his Belle was still there. And he would bring her back, he vowed to them both.

For now, all that mattered was that she was away from this horrid place. She needed warmth and light and safety. And food. Definitely food.

He gestured with his proffered hand to get her attention and felt his heart warm when she took it immediately. He was a bit unsteady on his feet, especially when she had some trouble of her own, but his grip on her hand was secure. He would be damned if he let her fall. 

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders to steady her and she curled into him, burying her face against his chest and trusting him to help hold her up. It was an incredible thing, really, to be leaned on. He was old, thin and had a bum leg. No one leaned on him for anything. But Belle did. He suddenly felt a lot steadier, though whether because of some kind of physical transformation or the simple fact that she was relying on him, he wasn't sure. Either way, he was suppressing a small, proud smile as he turned towards the door.

There was a collection of bewildered faces waiting for him. Emma appeared more surprised than the others. Not unexpected, considering she had only ever known him as the cold-hearted Mr. Gold. He could practically see her mind working as she tried to judge what was happening. Mary Margaret looked like she wanted to snatch Belle away from him at any moment and he could see David, his arms crossed as he looked thoughtfully between Gold and the woman beside him. 

He felt the persona of Mr. Gold take over him again where it had slipped (well, fallen straight off) in front of Belle. Back was the aloof indifference with which he greeted the rest of the town, the slight press of his lips that told whoever he was talking to that he wasn't quite happy to be in their presence.

"I'm taking her home," he announced, tightening his grip slightly on Belle's shoulders.

Mary Margaret opened her mouth, looking like she was about to protest, but she never managed to get the words out.

“Alright,” Emma said first, seeming to have made her decision. He was grateful that it was in his favor. "But I want you to come by the station tomorrow so we can talk about this.”

“Emma!” Mary Margaret protested, her jaw slack with surprise and her eyes darting between Gold and her long lost daughter.

Emma sighed. "Look, he seems to know who she is, which is more than any of us know. You tried for twenty minutes to get her to look at you. He managed it with just one word. Besides," she paused, looking at him carefully, "I don't think he would do anything to hurt her."

She couldn't be more correct on that account. He was responsible for enough of Belle's suffering as it was. He didn't know if he would succeed, but he intended never to hurt her again.

"We can talk about whatever is going on here tomorrow. Right now, she needs to get out of here and somewhere safe," Emma continued.

Mary Margaret pursed her lips, but nodded her head in agreement and Gold let out a shaky breath of relief.

They were a bit of a sad sight as they left the hospital, Gold with his lame leg trying to balance a young woman who seemed rather unused to moving much if her stiff limbs were anything to go by. But they managed together, making it up the stairs and down the corridor to the exit in one piece.

Belle froze the moment they stepped foot outside the hospital. He could feel her breath catch, and it took him a moment of looking around fiercely to see what had frightened her to realize that it was disbelief, not fear, in her wide eyes.

He looked at their surroundings and back to her, and it slowly dawned on him that this was her first step outside of the hospital in nearly thirty years. He wanted to cry again.

When she looked up at him, it was with tears of her own. "I- I don't have to go b-back?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head. "Never again, dear. I promise."

She nodded, looking up at him trustingly, and he felt his heart thud painfully at the sight. Everything she had been through and she still found it in herself to trust a monster. She would find out the truth soon enough, would know just how little he deserved such a gift, but it was a beautiful thing to behold nonetheless.

"Gold, you two need a ride?" Emma asked behind him.

One look at Belle had him nodding his acceptance. She looked like a gust of wind could knock her over. His house wasn't far, but he wouldn't make her endure a single step that wasn't necessary.

Emma led them to the patrol car that was parked nearby, waiting patiently for them to follow. Belle hesitated when he opened the back door. He gave her as reassuring a smile as he could and held out his hand for her, and she responded to the gesture almost immediately, tucking her small hand in his and letting him help her inside. She curled into his side as soon as he closed the door and settled beside her, and his eyes didn't leave her until they reached the salmon Victorian on the outskirts of town.

Emma caught his shoulder once he'd lifted himself out of the car. "You'll keep me updated, right?"

He feigned affront. "Why, of course, Sheriff."

"I'm trusting you with her, Gold. Don't make me regret it," she warned, her voice lowered so it wouldn't carry to where Belle still sat in the car nervously chewing her bottom lip.

He sighed, suppressing the urge to say something sarcastic as he likely would have if the topic was anything but Belle. But this _was_ about Belle, who was looking up at him from inside the car, looking so small and lost. And she had put all her faith in him.

"Where she is concerned, Miss Swan... I assure you, your trust is not misplaced. I will do everything in my power to ensure that she is safe and looked after," he vowed to them both.

Emma blinked at him, likely taken aback by how raw and honest his voice was in that moment. It wasn't the voice of Mr. Gold, or of Rumplestiltskin, really. It was the voice of a man who had gotten a second chance he never deserved and who was both terrified and determined not to waste it.

Unable to look Emma in the eyes just yet, he cleared his throat and leaned forward to offer Belle his hand.

"Almost home, dear," he said softly.

She gave a single look between him and Emma before she scooted forward and let him help her to her feet. Feeling more collected by the time she was steady, his hand on the small of her back, he turned back to Emma.

"Now," he started, his voice cool and unwavering once again, "I do believe you have a town to look after."

He smirked when Emma rolled her eyes, the Savior sparing him a miffed look and a sarcastic "You're welcome" that he assumed referred to her giving them a ride before she got back in her patrol car and eased out of his driveway.

For Belle, he offered a warm smile as he led her towards the large house before them. Just a few steps up the porch and they were at the door, its stained glass panel glimmering in welcome in the moonlight.

His fingers started to shake as he fumbled for his keys. Belle was going to be in his home. She wasn't dead; a pile of broken bones beneath a tower window, a ghost for him to mourn in the dead of night when he dared to sleep. She was here. She was alive and looking at him with her too blue eyes full of uncertainty and the tiniest spark of curiosity. She was real and warm and perhaps a bit worse for wear and not quite herself, but it barely mattered. She was home.

With a shaky breath, he pushed the door open.


	3. Chapter 3

Belle stepped inside with a small catch of her breath, her eyes darting everywhere at once. He closed the door quietly behind them as he followed her through the foyer and into the living room, his eyes locked onto her face as he watched her reaction to his home. To her home, if she would have it.

"It will take a bit of getting used to, I know," he mused, trying to fill the silence as she stepped quietly around the cluttered room.

She paused in front of one of the curio cabinets he had along the wall, its shelves lined with various trinkets he had acquired over the years. She would recognize them, if she were herself. She had dusted them often enough in the Dark Castle.

She reached out, her fingers hesitating over the glass as her eyes roamed over the goblets and statues and other baubles inside. She spent a few seconds with her eyes narrowed at a figurine that used to sit atop a pedestal in the main hall of the castle, her head tilted. For a moment, he thought she might have recognized it, but she looked away without a comment. She made her way around the room slowly, eyes traveling over the artwork on the walls, the ornate couch that he never sat in and the furniture lining the walls.

"It feels..." she started before pausing and looking at him, her eyes sparkling for the first time all night. "I like it."

He wasn't prepared for the pleasure that bloomed in his chest at her approval, but bloom it did. "I'm glad, dear."

She gave him an almost smile in return; a small quirk at the corner of her mouth that disappeared when she ducked her head. He couldn't wait until she smiled again, one of those dazzling, all-consuming smiles of hers that brought out the dimples in her cheeks and invariably made his whole world feel brighter. Soon, she would have reason to smile again. He wasn't particularly skilled at being happy and Gods knew he wasn't in the habit of making others so, but this was Belle and for her he would do his best.

"Would you like to see your room?" he asked suddenly, inspiration striking him.

Belle's head whipped over her shoulder from where her gaze had drifted back to the curio cabinet. "My r-room?"

He gestured with his head in the direction of the stairs and waited for her to join him before he made his way upstairs and down the hall to the largest of the guest rooms, pushing the door open to reveal a grand bedroom draped in blues and whites, delicate furniture, a small bookshelf beside a reading nook, and a bed fit for a queen. It was this world's version of the room he had given her at the Dark Castle. He had been unwilling to part with it when he designed the curse, though he hadn't stepped foot in it in all his time here. He had promised her this sanctuary, and even in his cursed state he hadn't been able to break his word.

"For you, Belle," he whispered.

He looked beside him to find Belle with her mouth half hung open, her eyes wide. "For... for me?"

"You didn't think I'd make you sleep in the dungeon, did you?" he teased, his mind for a moment back in the dreary halls of the Dark Castle and the memories it held. No, he had been a monster enough to her already. His Belle would have every comfort he could provide her.

He was just resolving on what else he could give her when there was suddenly a weight in his arms and he realized that Belle had hugged him. She _was_ hugging him. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her small body pressed so perfectly against his, her curls against his cheek, and his heart fell straight out of his chest as his body melted for her.

It was only a moment's hesitation before he wound his arms around her waist and hugged her back. This was a dream; it had to be. She was too warm, fit too perfectly, and he still couldn't believe that she was here at all, much less hugging him. But when she pulled back, only putting enough space between them to rest her hands on his arms and whispered a disbelieving "Thank you," it was impossible to deny the reality of her touch and the sound of her voice.

He felt his heart find its way back to his chest, though it still felt a bit like it might burst from the warmth that was stirring inside it, from the way it clenched at the sight of her blue eyes glistening with tears and brimming with a thanks he had never seen directed his way before. He brought his hands up to cup her face, his touch as reverent as his gaze as he looked at her. Unable to help himself, he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"I owe you so much more than this, sweetheart," he confessed. "But you're very welcome."

He gave her a few minutes to explore the room while he leaned happily against the door frame, his gaze trailing after her like a puppy would its master, content to merely watch her make herself at home as he tried to recover from the barrage of emotions she had stirred up. She spent a few long minutes in front of the bookshelf, and he chuckled beneath his breath at how very _Belle_ she looked as she brushed her fingertips along the spines of the books collected on the small shelves.

"Would you like me to draw you a bath?" he offered, his eyes taking in the rough hospital gown she was still wearing beneath his coat. She couldn't be comfortable, and that just wouldn't do.

As he expected, Belle lit up. "Oh, yes, please."

With her permission, he crossed the room to the door that would lead to the adjoining bathroom. She looked like she couldn't quite believe the sight of the large clawfoot bath sat in the corner. He went through the basics of modern plumbing, showing her how to turn the faucets and adjust the temperature in case she needed to add more warm water later. He made sure all the necessary bottles of shampoo and soaps were in reach and retrieved a few towels from the cabinet for her before he turned to fill the tub.

She shrugged out of his coat and handed it to him, and his throat suddenly went dry at the realization that she would be undressing to bathe (and how dare he think about it, everything considered). He kicked himself mentally and forced himself to smile, however nervous the gesture was.

"I, uh," he cleared his throat. "I'll go get a change of clothes for you. Take as long as you like."

He waited until he saw her nod in understanding before he ducked quickly out of the bathroom and closed the door, leaning against it for a moment to catch his breath. Gods, he was reprehensible. She had been locked up for three decades, had endured things he couldn't even begin to guess. Her memories were shaky, at best. She needed someone to care for her, not someone who loved her with all he was worth- and who suddenly, at the sight of the small blush that had come over her cheeks as she shrugged out of his coat, had the overwhelming urge to kiss her.

With a deep breath, he refocused on his task: clothes. He pushed away from the door and made his way to his room next door. It took some rummaging, but he managed to find a pair of pajamas that might fit her waist and a shirt that wouldn't completely swamp her tiny frame.

"These will be a bit big, but they should work," he called as he approached the bathroom door. "I'll leave them just out-"

He cut off at the sound of a whimper from the other side.

"Belle?" He immediately dropped the clothes at his feet and pressed his ear to the door, holding his breath as he tried to listen. It was muffled now, but she was definitely crying.

"Belle! What's wrong?" he asked worriedly. When she didn't respond, he started to panic.

He tried knocking, his heart clenching as he willed her to answer. "Belle, please. Are you hurt? Talk to me, sweetheart," he pleaded.

Still nothing.

"Belle, I'm coming in, alright?" He gave her exactly two seconds to answer him (she didn't) before he opened the door.

She was kneeling on the floor beside the tub, a towel wrapped around her, when he rushed inside. He hurried to her side, but almost tripped over his feet when he looked more closely and realized what was wrong and halted in his stride, his jaw dropping.

Her hospital gown had long sleeves and had covered most of her body. He couldn't have seen before. But how could he not have known? How could he not have sensed that she was hurt?

Her bare arms bore welts across her wrists, her skin rubbed raw and an angry shade of red. There were deep purple bruises spotting her shoulders. But those injuries paled in comparison to the scars on her back.

He knew scars from his time as a soldier. These weren't those sorts of scars. These were the mangled, painful scars that came from a weapon steeped in dark magic. Her beautiful, pale skin was twisted with it; lines that had been cut so that the magic could seep in and burn, prolonging the pain. They took ages to heal and never quite stopped burning; a constant reminder of whatever the victim had done to deserve them. He had administered them himself, on more than one occasion, during the darkest of his time as the Dark One. They were an effective form of torture.

His Belle had been tortured.

He was going to  _slaughter_  Regina.

"Belle?" he cooed in as gentle a voice as he could manage over the shock and fury raging through him.

He sank down beside her, pressing his fingers beneath her chin to try to encourage her to meet his eyes. Her cheeks were stained with tears and she was clutching one of her wrists to her chest.

"The water burns," she explained, her voice shaky as she looked between her wrist and the tub and then up at him with pleading eyes. "It's not usually warm."

He had to grit his teeth. Of course she had not been given the luxury of warm showers. Of course the warm water would burn her raw skin.

He took a deep breath and forced the anger down, concentrating on swiping his thumbs against her cheeks and keeping his voice level and calm as he instructed, "You wait right here, okay? I'm going to get something to help."

He made his way as quickly as he could to his workroom in the basement where he knew he had a chest of potions and salves brought over from the Enchanted Forest. He found what he was looking for in the collection of vials and when he returned to the bathroom, Belle hadn't moved an inch from where he had left her.

He took his place beside her again, setting the small glasses next to his outstretched leg and reaching for the wrist she was still holding. She unfurled her fingers at his touch and he took a careful look at the injury.

"Do you remember how you got this?" he asked evenly as he reached for a healing salve and gingerly applied it to her skin.

"They gave me medicine to make me forget," she told him, frowning. "I didn't like it."

He paused in his ministrations to look at her. "These are from restraints."

Belle nodded and a fresh wave of anger flew through him. She was forced. Held down so tightly that her skin was rubbed raw as she fought them. That was no doubt how she got the bruises on her shoulders as well.

"And the marks on your back?" he asked tightly.

She dropped her gaze. "I don't remember," she admitted.

He finished applying the salve to her wrists, pleased to see that the redness seemed to have diminished somewhat by the time he was done. At least he could do this much for her.

"That feels better," she said, turning her wrists around before her to see the result.

"I'm going to add some things to the water. They'll help with the burning." He managed to dredge up a small smile for her as he stood and emptied a few of the vials into the tub. It wasn't much- calming oils and a variety of soothing salves. They wouldn't heal anything, but they would help ease her pain. When magic returned, he could heal her permanently. And then wreak hell on the woman who had dared to cause her harm.

After retrieving the clothes he had brought for her, he helped her to her feet.

"Will you be alright?" he asked worriedly.

"I will," she assured him. Always the strong one, his Belle.

"How about I make you something to eat while I wait?" He didn't even need an answer, really. She lit up at the mention of food. When she made a comment about not wanting to trouble him, he was quick to assure her.

"You are no trouble at all, dear," he promised as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, allowing the anguish he felt to spill over his face for just a moment as he lingered against her skin before he collected himself again and pulled back. "If you need anything, anything at all, just call for me."

"You... you won't go far?" she asked, her brow furrowed and her hands clutching the towel around her chest.

He shook his head. "I'll be right downstairs."

He waited outside the door until he heard the sound of the water splashing to tell him that she had made it into the bath and then the sound of her sigh to let him know that she was alright before he left her room to head to the kitchen.

His hands were trembling by the time he reached the counter and he pressed his forehead against his palms, resting his elbows against the cool marble as he sank his fingers into his hair in an effort to keep from striking the wall or a window or anything else that Belle might hear.

His mind was whirling with thoughts of what Regina had done to her. She must have been abducted just after she left the Dark Castle. She had left one prison only to venture into another. How had he not known? How could he have been so blinded by his pain at having thought he lost her that he didn't even think to question the Queen's claims that she had died? No doubt Regina had tried to torture information out of her. Information about his weaknesses, perhaps? The scars that littered Belle's back were testament to how silent she had been. And how wrong he had been. About everything.

She had professed her love and he had thrown it back in her face. She was right about his motives. Of course she was. She always had been able to see straight through him. He needed his power, yes; to find his beloved Baelfire. But he had turned her away because he was afraid. He couldn't believe that someone could truly love him. He had regretted dismissing her the second the words came out of his mouth. By the time he had worked up even a fraction of the courage to admit it, it had been too late.

Or so he had thought.

An anguished cry ripped from throat and just what a fool he had been.

She would never forgive him. He loved her with every fiber of his being, and there was nothing he could ever do to deserve her. Even now, his heart ached with how much he loved her. He wanted to gather her in his arms and never let her go. He wanted to take it all back. He wanted to throw himself at her feet and beg her forgiveness, pledge himself to her for the rest of eternity. She was all that was light and good and beautiful in the world... and he had thrown her to the wolves. 

His breathing was ragged as he tried to control his rage- at himself, at Regina, at life in general for being so unfair as to punish someone whose only crime had been that she dared to love someone as undeserving and monstrous as the Dark One.

He forced himself to his feet, palms pressed flat to the marble counter as he tried to gather himself.

He couldn't change what had happened. But right now, Belle needed him. No doubt she would leave him the second she worked out her memories of who he was and what had happened, but at least he would know that he hadn't failed her a second time.

Belle needed him. That was all that mattered.


	4. Chapter 4

Gold pushed himself to his feet and in the direction of the cupboards, retrieving a saucepan and setting it on the stove before clicking on the gas. A look inside the refrigerator didn't yield anything particularly enticing, but there was a container of leftover soup from Granny's (last night's dinner) that he knew from experience would be better than anything he could manage to make from scratch. He couldn't bear to take the time away from Belle to attempt to make anything anyway.

After an experimental sniff of the container's contents just to be sure, he emptied it into the pan to heat before setting to work on the much more comfortable workings of tea preparation. As the kettle warmed, he retrieved his mug from its familiar shelf above the counter, his hand faltering as he then went back to retrieve a second. Once he had his cup prepared with tea and milk, he filled the second cup with sugar and just the right amount of lemon, just the way Belle liked it. The memory came as easily as if she had never been gone at all; as if they were still in the Dark Castle and she had gotten so lost in one of her books, curled up in his over-sized armchair, that he had been left to prepare their tea. He was glad for it now, even if his hands shook in disbelieving excitement as he made tea for two for the first time in thirty years.

"Gold?" a small voice chirped behind him just as he was ladling the now warm chicken noodle into a bowl. He reckoned she must have heard Emma call him by that name, but it was still so strange to hear his Storybrooke name in her lilting accent that he startled slightly, spilling a bit of soup over the rim and onto his hand. He barely noticed the mishap, though, enthralled as he was by the rather stunning sight before him.

Belle was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, her hands clasped in front of her and the bright light of the kitchen catching her features in such a way that it made his breath hitch in his throat. She was wearing his clothes, her long hair still damp as it hung over one shoulder. There was some color on her cheeks now and though she still looked a bit worse for wear, the difference made his heart clench. Gods, but she was beautiful.

He realized he was staring when a blush tinged her cheeks, but the color simply made him stare all the more. He shook his head to force his gaze away and tried to get his voice to work again.

"F-Feel better, dear?" he inquired shakily.

Belle answered with a small smile, "Much."

"I, uh," he pointed to the bowl in front of him, "I made soup. Well, heated some up. I hope that's alright."

"That sounds perfect," she assured him.

He nodded, relieved, and pulled a chair out at the table for her. She waited until he sat down opposite her before she took her first spoonful of soup, and a wave of pride rushed through him at the noise of pleasure she made. He tried not to think about the last time she had eaten and instead concentrated on looking at his own bowl often enough that it wouldn't appear too obvious that he was watching her eat.

He had already served her seconds when she broke the peaceful silence that had settled over them.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked, looking up at him from beneath her lashes.

"Of course," he answered at once.

She seemed to consider for a moment, taking a sip of her tea before she finally asked, "Why did you take me in? Why are you being so kind to me?"

He had to swallow the first few reasons that flew to his tongue, his mind racing over the day he held her in his arms when she fell from a ladder, the day he dismissed her from his castle, everything she had been through since, how very much he loved her. Finally, he settled on something that spoke more as to _why_ he loved her so dearly; something that he hoped had less of a chance of spooking her.

"There was a time when you showed me kindness, even though I deserved none," he admitted quietly.

"We know each other," she observed. It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement, but he nodded anyway.

She took a few more spoonfuls of her soup and for a moment he thought she wasn't going to say anything more, but then he noticed that every few seconds her eyes would flicker to his face in that thoughtful, contemplative way she always had and he knew she had something more to say.

When she finally did speak, though, it wasn't what he expected.

"I recognize you," she said softly.

His jaw went slack and his spoon clattered against the side of his bowl as his hand faltered. "Y-You do?"

The corner of her mouth quirked in an almost-smile as she nodded. "I don't know how, exactly. My memories are all... jumbled up. Sometimes I think I see bits and pieces, but everything is fuzzy. But you feel familiar, somehow. You feel... _right_."

She was watching him closely as she spoke, her ever-knowing eyes catching every twitch of emotion that went across his face. She was trying to gauge his reaction to what she had told him, he realized. She was trying to see if she was right. And oh, how he wanted to tell her that he loved her, then. But to do so, when she was unable to remember just what he had done to her, would be unfair. Still, every part of him was reaching out for her in that moment, and before he even realized he had moved, his hand was reaching out for hers where it rested on the table.

She didn't pull away when their fingers brushed, nor did she say anything when his eyes filled with tears. She just watched him, a curious, welcome warmth shining in her iolite eyes. And then she curled her fingers around his and squeezed and he thought, maybe, she understood.

There were no more words after that, just the clink of their spoons as they finished their soup. Belle's hand never left his and he didn't move from her either, feeling more content than he had in decades just sitting across the table from her with their fingers intertwined.

He didn't bother cleaning up when they finished, merely brought the dishes to the sink after reluctantly parting with her hand. He caught her hiding a yawn behind her palm when he turned to help her from her chair and he chuckled.

"Come on, off to bed with you," he said fondly.

He felt his stomach clench the closer they got to her room, the realization that he would have to leave her hitting him. He tried to take a deep breath, to remind himself that she was going to be right next door and that she would be there when he woke up. He was still telling himself that when they reached her room but he still couldn't bring himself to say goodnight. 

"If there's anything you need - anything at all - I'm in the room beside yours," he told her, trying to prolong the inevitable as long as he could.

Belle was fiddling with the hem of her shirt, looking as if she wanted to say something. Her eyes flickered between the open door and his face for a moment and he could see a question practically brewing in her eyes, but in the end she squared her shoulders and simply nodded.

He wanted to ask her what she was going to say. He wanted to say a million things back to her. Most of all, with her but inches away from him after all this time thinking she was lost to him forever, he wanted to stay with her.

He took a shaky breath and dropped his gaze to where his hands rested atop his cane. His fingers wouldn't quite sit still, twitching as if with the need to reach for her. He tried to clench them around the handle, but it was no use.

"I... I'm glad you're here, Belle," he whispered.

When he dared to look up, she was looking back at him softly, an unreadable warmth in her eyes that expanded as she smiled. 

"Me too," she murmured back. Then she stepped forward, leaned up on her toes and kissed his cheek, lingering for one blissful moment before she pulled away. "Good night, Gold."

He was still wide-eyed, his feet rooted to the floor and his heart hammering away in his chest, when she stepped into her room.

"Good night, dearest," he bid her, his voice reverent.

It took him a long time to move after she closed the door and even longer to return his heart to a steadier, less terrifying rhythm. She had kissed him. And he couldn't quite comprehend how or why; all he knew was that his body felt too warm and his chest felt like it was about to burst. And he needed to leave before he knocked on her door and begged her to let him stay.

It took his feet too long to listen to him, but at length he found himself moving and when he looked up again he was in his room. He went about his evening ablutions in a sort of daze, his face going from open-mouthed astonishment to dopey smile all the while until finally there was nothing to do but take one final peek down the hall before he slipped between his cold sheets. 

With everything that had happened, there was no way he would find any sleep. Despite the reassurances he had given himself, a part of him was still terrified that he would wake to find that it had all been a dream; that his Belle was not sleeping peacefully right next door. After all, it wouldn't be the first time he had imagined her. He didn't think he could bear it if he lost her again. So, he kept his eyes trained on the ceiling and his thoughts focused on Belle, his hands folded over his chest and his ears perked as he listened for any sounds that may be coming from her room- proof that she was still here.

The house remained quiet, though, the minutes ticking by as he watched the shadows dance along the ceiling and listened to his breathing.

Then, out of nowhere, he heard a muffled crash.

“Belle?" he called as he shot up in bed, his gaze riveted to the wall across from him as if he could see through it into Belle's room if he looked hard enough.

He was out of bed a moment later, throwing himself from the blankets and not even bothering to grab his cane in his haste. He had to brace a hand against the wall as he limped down the hall toward the guest room, but he barely noticed the pain in his ankle as worry lanced through his chest. Her door was open when he reached it, and he could feel a chill coming from her room.

"Belle? Are you alright?" he asked urgently as he peeked around the doorframe.

The first thing he noticed was that the window was wide open, the breeze outside fluttering the curtains and catching his eye even as it made him shiver. It was freezing.

Loathe as he was to enter her room without her invitation, his concern had him crossing the threshold, his eyes searching frantically for her in the dark. She wasn't in bed. The blankets were thrown back, the sheets empty. He thought to perhaps check the bathroom when he noticed the door was open but then he rounded the side of the bed and found her.

She was huddled in the small space between the corner of the room and the nightstand. The lamp that used to be sat atop the small table was on its side on the floor. That must have been the cause of the crash he heard. He spared it barely a glance, though, his eyes riveted on where Belle was sat, her knees pulled to her chest.

He approached her slowly, holding his hands up in an effort to appear as nonthreatening as possible even though it made his gait wobble. His heart broke when his eyes adjusted enough to see that she was shaking, her eyes squeezed shut and her hands cupped over her mouth to silence her cries.

"Oh Belle," he whimpered, dropping to his knees. She must have had a nightmare.

He reached out to clasp her shoulder, praying to whatever Gods would listen that he didn't make anything worse. He needn't have worried though. At his touch, her eyes flew open and half a second later she was scrambling towards him, all but climbing into his lap. He shuffled backwards, leaning against the bed for support as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

"It's alright, sweetheart. I'm here," he breathed against her temple, his hands rubbing her back in an effort to soothe her.

"I'm s-s-sorry," she gasped between staggered breaths. "I d-didn't mean to w-wake you."

"Shh," he hushed, brushing a hand over her hair. "You didn't wake me, but even if you had I wouldn't have minded," he assured her.

He didn't know if she was trembling from the cold or whatever seemed to have frightened her, but he kept his arms around her regardless, cooing nonsense into her temple until she seemed to calm.

"I... I dreamt I was back there," she offered, sniffling into his chest.

"The hospital?" he asked, hoping that talking about it might help. But Belle shook her head.

"Before that," she said. When he didn't say anything, his brow furrowed in confusion, she went on. "I-In a tower. The walls are all different there."

His heart clenched. She meant Regina's castle. He could only imagine the nightmare those dreams must be.

"You deserve so much better than what happened to you, Belle," he said quietly into the dark.

She didn't say anything more and for a while he just held her, simultaneously berating himself for having caused the need for her nightmares and rejoicing in being able to provide her comfort through them. She pulled him from his thoughts when she started shaking again, this time was from the cold.

"Let's get you back under the covers, hm?" he suggested, pulling back.

Belle nodded and scrambled stiffly to her feet, crawling back onto the bed.

"Can I leave the door open?" she asked, her eyes wide and her cheeks still glistening with her tears. "I don't like being... trapped."

He sat beside her and wiped his thumbs over the curve of her cheeks, trying to offer her a reassuring smile. "You can keep every door in the house open if you like, dear. You never have to be trapped again."

With her permission, he did close the window, however. He didn't want her to catch a cold. He helped settle the covers and reset her lamp and was just stepping towards the door about to wish her good night when she preempted him with a request of her own.

"Will... will you stay with me?" her soft voice asked.

He turned back to find her watching him beseechingly, a tiny crease between her brows and her bottom lip pouting just the tiniest bit. The moonlight was behind her, casting a soft glow against her hair and for a moment he was left stunned by how beautiful she was; and that such a beauty could ever want comfort from one such as he. 

"Of course," he told her. _For as long as you want me, I'm yours._

He limped back towards the bed, debating with himself for a long moment before he finally decided to lean against the headboard on the far end across from her.

He left plenty of space between them, not sure what she would feel comfortable with. He certainly didn't expect her to scoot closer, to nudge his arm aside so she could curl into his side and rest her head against his chest with a contented little hum. He didn't move an inch; didn't even dare to breathe too deeply lest he disturb her and she come to her senses and move away. As still as he was, though, his thundering heart was not so.

Gods, but she was warm. Warm and soft and so utterly perfect. He could smell the shampoo from her hair, could feel her breath against his side and the weight of her hand where it was resting against his chest. More so, he could feel the way just being in her presence made him better. Made him whole. Her warmth seeped into him like the salvation he had been searching all these years for, and he wrapped his arms around her, trying to hold her as close to him as he dared so that he might never lose her again.

When her breathing settled into a slow, even rhythm and was sure she wouldn't hear him, he dared to speak, the softest of whispers against her chestnut curls.

"I love you, Belle."

And as he watched over her, her presence soothing him into a state of peace he hadn't known in three decades, he drifted off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Gold roused with the first light of dawn, his mind settling into consciousness with an ease that he hadn't felt in a very long time. He felt warm, more so than usual, but it took him a long moment to realize why. And when he did, it took all his restraint not to flinch in shock and risk waking her. 

Because there, in his arms, was a dream; the woman he loved. His Belle.

He was curled up on his side with her in his arms, her back pressed to his front and his arm draped over her waist. His face was buried in the soft waves of her hair, her scent surrounding him, and if there was a heaven for monsters, this was his. He would have been certain it was a vision, something he had conjured in his loneliness, were it not for the flood of memories from the previous day.

No, his Belle was really here.

And oh God, but he needed to move.

She had sought comfort in his presence, yes, but that didn't mean she wanted _thi_ s. What would she think if she woke to find him practically plastered to her? Not to mention that while he might have mentally decided it was best to keep his distance, his body wasn't quite as successful at remaining... disinterested.

He shifted, carefully trying to pry his arm from underneath her without waking her. She grumbled, but thankfully didn't wake as he finally got himself free. He sat up slowly, intending to slip from the covers when he turned back to her. Unable to help himself, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her temple. She made a soft noise that made him smile and, feeling better, he carefully got to his feet.

He didn't have his cane, so it was a bit of an awkward affair getting back to his room in his current condition, but he managed. A few good minutes and a cold shower later and he was back down the hall. A quick look inside her room showed her still fast asleep. He wasn't sure why his heart swelled when he saw that she had scooted back into the spot he had left and curled around his pillow, but swell it did.

He forced his feet to move lest he stay there and simply watch her sleep all morning, tapping quietly down the hall to the kitchen. He set the kettle to boil and prepared himself a mug. Then, on second thought, he prepared another with lemon and sugar. Just in case.

Tea in hand and the house still blissfully quiet, he pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket and selected a number from the speed dial.

The other line clicked with a brusque, "Sheriff."

"Miss Swan," he trilled, the mask of 'Mr. Gold' firmly back in place.

"Gold." The surprise in her voice was almost tangible.

"Didn't think I would keep my word, dearie?" he remarked dryly.

"I wouldn't have been surprised," she mumbled.

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, Sheriff," he chuckled.

There was a slight pause where he could almost see Emma scowling into the receiver, her hand on her hip, before he heard a small huff.

"How is she?" Emma asked bluntly, obviously deciding to get straight to business.

Gold's mask slipped straight off his face. It always had where Belle was concerned, and especially now when he was still trying to come to terms with her return and everything she had been through. He sighed into the phone, running a hand through his hair as he tried to think of how to answer the savior's question.

"She's... She's been through a great deal," he decided on, his voice cracking slightly over the admission.

"That sounds like the understatement of the century," Emma muttered.

"I'm not leaving her," he said suddenly. It was why he had called to begin with, though he had planned on working around to it. Now it seemed that neither of them had any interest in dancing around the matter.

"I figured as much," Emma admitted. "We still need to talk, though. Is it alright if I come over?"

He pursed his lips and nodded reluctantly before he remembered that she couldn't see him and clipped a tight "I suppose that's alright" through the phone.

"Is there anything she needs? Clothes?" she asked then, catching him off guard.

It took him a moment to react, unused to kindness as he was. People didn't just offer to help Mr. Gold- especially not without expecting something in return. But Emma sounded genuine and Belle really could use something besides his pajamas to wear, however much he liked seeing her in them.

"Clothes would be... helpful," he admitted cautiously.

"I'll see if Mary Margaret has some she can spare. They're about the same size. I can swing by the store on the way for the rest," she said, sounding like she was half talking to herself while she jotted down a list of things to pick up. Gold was caught in a rare moment of astonishment at her thoughtfulness.

"Emma," he interrupted, a sincerity in his voice that wasn't often there. "Thank you."

There was a pause on the other line, before, "Sure thing, Gold."

They agreed that Emma would stop by in an hour or so and, neither the type to dawdle, that was that.

Gold had just flipped his phone closed when a flutter of movement caught his eye and he looked up to find Belle, all sleep mussed and adorable, standing in the doorway.

"Hey," he breathed, half in awe of how stunning she looked in that moment.

"G'morning," she mumbled. "Is everything alright?"

He assured her it was and offered her the extra cup of tea, feeling rather glad he had thought to make it, even more so when she hummed happily as she took a sip.

"Emma was thinking of stopping by to see you. Would that be alright?" he asked. If she wasn't up for company, he would call Emma back and cancel without a second thought.

"Emma is... the one who found me?" Belle asked, her brow crinkled slightly.

He nodded in confirmation. "She's the sheriff here. Uh, a law enforcer," he clarified. "She's a bit rough around the edges, but she means well. She wants to make sure you're alright."

Belle's worry seemed to ease at his reassurance, warming into something like trust before she nodded.

"Could we go outside? Until she gets here?" she asked softly, lighting up when he smiled and held his hand out for her.

Thankfully, the weather was warm enough that he didn't have to worry about her getting cold. Belle practically beamed at the sight of the sun overhead, tipping her head back and closing her eyes as she stepped out onto the porch. He didn't spend a great deal of time out there, but he reckoned he would if Belle enjoyed it. Maybe he would finally clear the side garden of its overgrown weeds so she could plant something. She had always loved tending to the gardens at the Dark Castle, he remembered fondly.

Belle curled up on one of the wide chairs he kept back there and he stood by awkwardly, caught between wanting to stay as close as possible to her and not wanting to force his presence on her. Before he could decide on a compromise, Belle patted the spot beside her and he waited only long enough to see her sure smile before he all but threw himself onto the chair.

It was incredible, the easy sort of peace that came over him as he looked out over the back yard, untamed as it was, the sun warming his legs as his True Love sat beside him. The silence wasn't awkward, just calm, the sort of happiness that comes with being completely content to simply be in each other's company. Or at least, he was in hers, though he could almost convince himself she was too when she snuggled into his side with a sigh.

He was loath to leave her fifteen minutes later, but her stomach had grumbled and he realized with alarm that he hadn't even offered her breakfast. He was only gone long enough to make omelets, watching Belle through the window while he did and smiling at the peaceful look on her face and the way the sun danced on her pale skin. He only bothered making one plate (though he did make two omelets), feeling less than willing to take the time necessary to both plate a second and then make two trips to carry them both outside.

Belle insisted on sharing as she sat cross legged beside him, the plate on her lap as she nibbled away. At her prompting, he told her a little about the town and what he did with regards to his shop, trying to put things simply so as not to overwhelm her with talk of magic and the Enchanted Forest. Mostly, he tried not to smile like an idiot in her company, especially when she giggled at his quips. It was an exquisite sound, and the fact that he had caused it made him feel prouder than any spell ever had. 

He was just sharing his thoughts about expanding the garden when the chime of the doorbell interrupted them and Belle flinched across from him, their utensils clinking loudly against the plate in her lap.

“It’s okay. It’s just the doorbell. Our visitors are here,” he explained. He placed one of his hands over hers where it lay between them and gave it a gentle squeeze in a way that he hoped was reassuring. "Why don't you wait here and I'll let them in." 

Belle let out a gush of breath, relief flashing across her face. He knew it would take some time for her to become accustomed to this world as well as to the idea of being around other people. After everything she had been through, he didn't blame her. He would do everything he could to make her more comfortable, and if she felt more comfortable with him as a buffer, then a buffer he would be.

"Good morning, Miss Swan," he greeted coolly as he opened the front door to find Emma, arms crossed as she leaned against the door frame.

She gave him a nod, which was about as civil and warm as the two of them usually got. He stepped aside and gestured grandly with his arm, offering her entry. It wasn't until she swept in and set down the bag she had brought that he realized she wasn't alone. Whale was shuffling in behind her, slipping into his home as if it was the last place in the world he wanted to be.

His head was ducked, that same guilty expression on his face that Gold remembered seeing the night they found Belle. Considering what Gold had seen last night and managed to gather about Belle's time in the hospital, he suspected he knew why.

“ _You_ ," he hissed menacingly, his eyes narrowed at Whale. The man flinched and brought his hands up, his eyes pleading, but it did nothing to placate the anger Gold felt rush through him.

He shoved the man backward and barely had time to enjoy the dull thud that Whale's back made with the wall before he surged forward with his cane, pressing it to the man's neck.

“Gold, stop!" Emma snapped.

She grabbed his shoulder and tried to yank him off the doctor, but he just shrugged her off and tightened his grip, cold fury raging through his veins. All he could see as Whale sputtered before him were the welts on Belle's wrists, the bruises on her arms and the hollowness of her cheeks.

“You knew," he snarled. "You helped do this to her."

He barely registered Emma's voice behind him, but when another, fonder voice said his name, he froze.

“Gold?”

Belle's voice behind him was like a bucket of cold water over his head. His anger evaporated and he heard his cane clatter to the floor before he even realized he had released it. It took only a moment for the horror of what he had done to fill the space his rage had left. Or, more accurately, who he had done it in front of.

Her name came out in a rushed breath, and he turned to find her standing a few feet away, her arms wrapped around herself and her eyes wide.

_Oh Gods. What have I done?_

“I… Belle, I…” he stuttered, holding his hands up in front of him and willing her not to be afraid of him. But how could she not be? With everything she had been through, to then see him choking a man within an inch of his life… Surely she would- hug him?

He had been trying to form some kind of explanation (or apology, at the very least) when she crossed the room and stepped straight into his arms. Her head was pillowed against his chest, her curls just beneath his chin, and he hesitated for only a moment before he lowered his arms to wrap them around her instead. She snuggled closer when he did, and he cradled the back of her head to his chest as if she were the most precious thing in the world. For him, she was. 

"I would never hurt you, Belle. You have to know that," he whispered against her temple, desperate that she not think the contrary for a single moment.

"I know," she nodded. "You'll protect me." 

Gold swallowed hard, completely lost for words. She trusted him.  _Him_. A man she wasn’t even sure she knew but who made her feel safe. Whose arms she would willingly walk into even after what she had just seen. Whether in this world or the old, she was destined to astound him. And he could do nothing in that moment but dip his head until his nose brushed her hair and breathe her in until he could form words again.

When he finally looked up, Emma was looking between him and Belle with an inscrutable, if stunned, expression on her face.

Gold cleared his throat and gestured to where Whale was still pressed against the entryway wall.

"What is he doing here, Miss Swan?" he asked, his voice gentled by Belle's presence.

Emma looked visibly relieved now that he seemed less intent to throttle the doctor, who was still rubbing his neck and trying to stay out of Gold's line of sight.

"Whale was the one who let us know about her in the first place," Emma told him. "And besides Regina, who I doubt will talk, he's the only one who knows what kind of medications she was given."

"Because he helped strap her down and force her to take them," Gold grumbled, his eyes narrowed.

Emma cringed and her eyes flickered to Belle. Gold saw the sympathy behind her gaze, but he also saw the resolve in the hard set of her jaw.

"He's the only doctor we have, Gold," she continued, looking back up at him. "And whether you like it or not, we need to make sure that she's not suffering any side effects. I just want him to do an exam; to make sure she's alright."

Gold opened his mouth to protest when he felt a weight lift from him. Belle had stepped out of his arms and cocked her head in the direction of the doctor. He had to swallow the urge to pull her back, to wrap himself around her, to protect her. But Belle always had made her own choices. Still, his eyes were tormented as he looked between her and Whale. When she stepped toward the other man, he took a step in her direction without even meaning to. The sound caught her attention and she looked back at him, her expression softening when she read the worry in his gaze. She reached out and curled her small hand around his, squeezing gently. He felt ridiculous that she would need to soothe him in this situation rather than the other way around, but protectiveness seemed ingrained in him wherever Belle was concerned.

Belle stepped toward Whale again, and Gold settled for glaring at the man from behind her.

"You... told them where to find me?" she asked softly.

Whale had his gaze directed somewhere around his feet, but he nodded shakily in response, his blond hair falling across his forehead. 

Belle tilted her head, considering him carefully for a moment before she took a deep breath and said, "Thank you."

Whale's head shot up in a flash, his face twisted with a disbelief that most of the room felt along with him. Gold simultaneously wanted to groan and marvel at the wonder that Belle was. Her forgiveness and kindness knew no bounds. He really shouldn't be surprised that she would find it in herself to thank the man who had helped make her life hell, however much he may disagree with the man's worthiness of it. 

Belle consented to an examination, though she insisted on Gold remaining at her side. He couldn't have been happier to comply, and was sure to level a critical eye on Whale the entire time lest the man mistakenly think for a single moment that he had earned any reprieve from the pawnbroker's ire even if he had succeeded with Belle.

The doctor checked her pulse and blood pressure with some instruments he pulled from a small bag he had brought along with him. Belle didn't even flinch when he took the blood samples, merely looked away with a glazed expression that made Gold's stomach clench to witness. It didn't clear until he reached for her, clasping her small hand in his until she looked up and gave him a half-hearted smile. Whale asked her a series of questions when he was finished, mostly about how she was feeling, and jotted down some notes before slipping his things back in his bag and getting to his feet.

He left with Belle's consent to return the next week to check on her and the assurance that she seemed to be in good health, though he would take a look at the blood tests to be sure. Gold kept his mouth firmly shut as the man left, sparing him a single nod of thanks as he did. It was a small gesture, but Belle placed her hand on his arm and gave him a smile of approval that made it well worth the effort.

Emma introduced herself properly after that and he ushered Belle to the couch so the two of them could talk while he fetched tea. He paused with the tray in his hands as he returned when he saw the way Belle had brightened in the other woman's company. Even Emma was gazing back at her warmly, the two seeming to have hit it off. Gold was glad, though he still felt the residual, selfish urge to hide Belle away and keep her all to himself.

She always had been fond of company and quick to make friends. They could be passing through a small village during one of his deals in the Enchanted Forest and even at the side of the Dark One people would be drawn to her, softening into smiles and chatter. He was glad that part of her still remained intact, even if he could see the nervous tick of her fingers every so often that told him she would need time to open up completely. But seeing the way she smiled when Emma showed her the bag of clothes she had brought - things for Belle to have for her very own - made Gold's heart warm. It wasn't the all-encompassing smile he remembered from the Dark Castle, but it was a step in the right direction. It gave him hope; hope that he could help her find herself again, help her be happy again.

He felt even more hopeful when he set the tea tray on the coffee table and she immediately scooted over to make room for him on the couch beside her. And when she looked up at him, her smile was even wider.


	6. Chapter 6

"Do you have to go?" Belle grumbled from behind him. Gold's hands faltered over the stove at the way her voice cracked halfway through her question; at the hint of a pout in her lilting voice.

He knew he was no match for the look that was sure to be on her face - he'd seen it far too many times for his liking in the Dark Castle, usually when his too-curious little maid was instructed not to touch one of his trinkets or told that no, she couldn't go with him to fetch a dragon scale. Still, he couldn't help it. He looked over his shoulder anyway and, sure enough, he could feel his resolve slipping straight through his fingers as they tried to remain their grip on the spatula he was using to flip their breakfast.

Belle was leaning against the kitchen island, her chin cradled in her palms and an imploring look on her beautiful face. Really, she shouldn't be allowed to look at anyone like that - all wide puppy-dog eyes, her bottom lip jutting out just the tiniest bit - much less him. He never had been very good at denying her, and that ability had all but vanished since her return. It was so tempting to give in and simply ignore the rest of Storybrooke to hide away with Belle like he had for the past week.

It had been so _easy_  to adjust to life with Belle. No longer was his life a suspended, muted sort of existence, a steadfast and mindless pursuit of the Curse that would lead him to Baelfire. Now that Belle was here, by some miracle returned to him, it was as if he could breathe again. His wasn't merely existing until he could find Bae. He was _living_.

He woke up every morning feeling as if he held a little sun in his arms. Literally. Belle hadn't been able to sleep on her own since she was found. She woke up screaming her second night. After his heart had recovered from that sound, he ran to her and she wouldn't let him out of her grasp for the rest of the night. Somehow they ended up in his bedroom, curled up in his bed. He wasn't sure who was happier about the arrangement- Belle or himself. She slept more soundly with him nearby and though he slept less, the happiness that came with being beside her was more than worth it.

Their days were just as wonderful. They were making their way through his small library (Belle had beamed at the sight of books) and were slowly turning his overgrown garden into a little sea of rose bushes. Dove stopped by with groceries because although she was growing more confident every day, Belle still wasn't quite ready to go into town and Gold wasn't willing to leave her to do so.

Until now, though 'willing' wasn't exactly true. While he didn't regret a single moment of staying home with Belle, Gold knew that if he didn't take care of a few matters he risked returning to a shop that was in shambles - assuming it hadn't already been looted or burned to the ground by the wakened and bitter townsfolk.

Still, that didn't make it any easier to cross to where Belle was still sitting with that pout on her face and maintain even a fraction of his determination to leave.

"I'm afraid it can't be helped, my dear. I won't be gone for long. A few hours at most," he promised. "And Emma will be here any minute to keep you company."

He felt some of the weight lift from his chest at the way she brightened. She had taken a liking to the Savior and Gold couldn't say he was surprised. While the two women were quite different in temper, they each had an inner strength that seemed to resonate with the other. It was a quiet, understated sort of friendship, but a friendship nonetheless and he was glad that Belle had it.

Satisfied that she would at least have company while he was seeing to the shop and that her pout was more of a smile now, he slid her plate of pancakes closer to her with an encouraging nod and Belle subsided and picked up her fork, the two of them eating in happy silence broken only by the clinking of their utensils until a musical patterned knock at the door announced Emma's arrival.

It had been Emma's idea to use the knock as a sort of code so that Belle would know who it was right away. Belle still hadn't taken to the doorbell and visitors in general made her nervous. He was grateful for Emma's thoughtfulness on Belle's behalf. It was yet another reason why he didn't so much mind that Belle hopped to her feet and whooshed past him in a blur to answer the door. He couldn't find a fault with anything that made Belle happy, after all.

He chuckled as he gathered their plates and brought them to the sink. He heard the familiar click of the door and the Savior's voice as it floated down the hall, but when another, unexpected voice joined it he twisted the faucet off with a frown.

"Ruby! I didn't know you were coming," he heard Belle say as he approached the foyer, making him groan.

It wasn't that he disliked the werewolf. He merely didn't trust her, particularly around his Belle. Ruby was a lesser known figure in his home, but she had tagged along with Emma a few times as she was still helping at the sheriff's station. She had taken it upon herself to take Belle under her wing, so to speak, and that meant she had an annoying habit of inquiring if Belle was absolutely sure that she wanted to stay with ' _him_.' While Belle always answered with a very sure 'yes,' he couldn't really warm up to her after that.

"Don't tell me I forgot to post that 'no dogs' sign on the fence," he quipped, his cane tapping as he approached the women where they were greeting each other.

Ruby straightened to glare at him over Belle's shoulder and he returned the gesture with a wide smirk that faltered slightly when Belle turned and raised an eyebrow at him.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, dearie?" he asked, changing tactics lest Belle become cross with him for his treatment of her friend.

"I'm here for Belle. That's pleasure enough," Ruby threw back, then gestured to the paper bag she was carrying and looked sideways at Belle. "I brought ingredients for cupcakes."

When Belle lit up so brightly that she had to pull her lip between her teeth to contain her smile, Gold felt his disdain for the wolf shatter. Belle had discovered a cookbook amongst his library a few days ago and had been quietly asking questions about baking ever since. It seemed her friends had caught wind of her curiosity and he couldn't help but find a tiny spark of fondness for them for it.

With a heavy sigh that was mostly for show, he swept his arm toward the kitchen. He pointedly ignored Ruby's smug look as well as Emma's eye roll and focused on Belle's delighted smile while they all shuffled past him. It was worth it, that smile. Even if his home was being invaded by a dog and the irritating scent of light magic.

Emma and Ruby kept up a steady stream of chatter as they unpacked their bag and sorted through the ingredients they brought and Gold mumbled a warning about not destroying his kitchen before he pulled Belle off to the side. Her smile dimmed almost immediately at the regretful look on his face.

"I'll be back before you know it," he assured her, already trying to think of what he could cut from his to do list for the day so that he come home sooner.

She sighed, but pulled together a smile for him and followed him out to the foyer, where she brushed a few invisible wrinkles out of his jacket and straightened his already pristine tie. He could tell she was nervous by the way she was nibbling on her bottom lip and he had to admit that he was no less worried himself, not at all wanting to let her out of his sight. He kept reminding himself that she would be alright, that it was just a few hours and she had Emma to look out for her.

And when she leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek and said, "I'll see you when you get home," he thought, just for a moment, that leaving might be worth it just for the feeling of coming home to her.

The thought had faded a few hours later when he sat grumbling at the front counter of his shop, continually running his fingers through his long hair as he stared at the accounting books spread out in front of him. He tallied the expenses for the third time, pressing the numbers into the calculator at his elbow and, for the third time, his mind wandered halfway through and he ended up with a number that was nowhere near the one marked in his books.

He dropped his head into his hands with a groan and wondered if he should just give up pretending that he was going to get anything done. Even Dove, who was out running errands, had accomplished more than he had in the past hour. The shop hadn't been ransacked, thankfully, and Gold had managed to get a few important matters settled with Dove's assistance. It was after the man left and Gold was left to his own work within the familiar, dark space that the first nagging thought had entered his mind.

_I wonder if Belle would like it here._

That single thought had led to others, which had led to him picturing Belle leaning against the glass counters or sat atop his workbench the way she used to sit on the grand table back in the Dark Castle, the way her hair would glitter when it caught the sun through the musty windows, the way she might lean over his shoulder to watch as he tinkered with the antique clock that sat half finished in the back room... It was as beautiful a daydream as it was distracting.

Even more distracting was that the object of his thoughts was currently at his home waiting for him. And really, it wasn't fair of him to make her wait. Perhaps he should just work from home. It wasn't as if he needed the income from the shop. He still had the deeds to most of the properties in town. He didn't even have to collect the rent for another two weeks. Yes, his business would survive if he was tending to more important matters. Like Belle.

Decided, he sent a quick text message to Dove and shoved whatever paperwork was in sight into a briefcase on the off-chance he might attempt to get some work done at home. He locked up, tossed the briefcase into the passenger seat of his Cadillac and set off towards home, immediately feeling better about the day as he pulled into the driveway of the pink Victorian.

His elation at finally being home, though, was dashed as soon as he opened the car door and heard the screech of the fire alarm sounding ahead of him. He nearly had a stroke when he looked up at the house and saw smoke billowing out through one of the side windows near the kitchen.

A man with a limp and a cane probably shouldn't be able to move as quickly as he did then, all but sprinting across the lawn and barely waiting for the handle to release the front door before he threw his shoulder against it and shoved it open.

"Belle!" he yelled the second it was clear, his eyes scanning the house and his heart plummeting when he was met with the dull haze of smoke.

When the alarm suddenly stopped its screaming, he was convinced it was because the fire had gotten large enough to disable the device. And then he heard coughing coming from the kitchen.

Oh Gods.

He was yelling her name as he ran toward the kitchen, his heart racing so fast that it was thudding painfully in his chest. But everything came to a halt at the sight that greeted him. Instead of the raging inferno that his mind was certain was in there, he found Ruby fiddling with the fire alarm on the ceiling, Emma dropping a tray of something very black on the stove and Belle - his beloved Belle - wringing her hands as she stood nearby. His kitchen was a disaster zone, but not on fire, and all three women seemed unharmed. The sight didn't do much to convince his panicked heart of the fact, though.

The choked sound that came out of his throat alerted them to his presence. Belle had barely managed to turn in the direction of the door when he threw his arms around her and crushed her to him.

She let out a soft 'oof' but wrapped her arms around his waist a second later and he buried his nose in her curls as he tried to calm his heart, steadily repeating ' _she's fine_ ' over and over again in his head.

He realized belatedly that Belle was saying his name, but it wasn't until he registered the concern in her voice that he recovered himself enough to ease his grip on her and step back.

"Are you alright? You're shaking," she pointed out, her blue eyes traveling over his face and her brow pinched with worry.

"I- I'm sorry, I... I thought... You're okay? You're not hurt?" he stuttered, his pulse still racing as his eyes searched for injuries.

The tension left her shoulders as her face softened and she shook her head with a small smile. "I'm fine."

"Can't say the same for your kitchen though," Emma muttered nearby, startling him. He had forgotten there was anyone else in the room.

He turned around to see Emma waving a potholder over the stove, trying to direct the smoke emanating from the charred cupcake pan in the direction of the open window. He took a closer look around. There were mixing bowls overflowing with cupcake batter, flour sprinkled on just about every surface and some kind of liquidy substance that he assumed was meant to be frosting but which never quite got there smeared on his counter.

When he looked back at Belle, she was chewing on her lip and her cheeks were tinged pink with embarrassment. All he could do was lift the corner of his mouth in a smirk.

"I see your baking skills are still what they've always been, dearest," he chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped forward to place a kiss atop Belle's.

"You're not..." Emma started to say.

"Upset?" Ruby finished, her brows raised in surprise as she set the fire alarm on the counter.

Gold picked up Belle's hands in his, turning them over as he inspected them for any signs of burns. He didn't see any- even beneath the flour they were covered in.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked anyway, needing to be certain.

Belle nodded and squeezed his hands where they rested against her palms.

"Then no," he finally answered.

Emma and Ruby exchanged looks, a silent conversation consisting of raised eyebrows and confused shrugs.

"Well, no sense pushing our luck," Emma announced. "We'll clean this mess up and get out of your hair."

Gold waved a hand and insisted that wasn't necessary. It took a little convincing, as both women seemed to think it impossible that the infamous Mr. Gold would let a filthy kitchen go unpunished, but Gold had other plans.

When the front door closed behind them, Gold slipped out of his suit jacket. He folded it over the back of a nearby chair and went to work on his cuffs, tugging them loose before rolling up his sleeves.

"Now, let's see if we can manage to make something edible, shall we?" he offered, gesturing to the disaster at the counter.

Belle giggled, her eyes twinkling with excitement as she slipped an apron over his head.

A few hours and two failed attempts later, they had a spotless kitchen and a tray of - finally - perfectly baked cupcakes sitting on the coffee table. Gold sat on the couch, tie long since removed and his socked toes curling in the carpet at his feet, while Belle sat sideways beside him with her legs thrown over his lap. There was a movie playing in the background, but Gold couldn't have remembered what it was if his life depended on it because he was too busy watching Belle as she tried to figure out the concoction that was cupcake liners and the delicate art of trying to eat one of the confections without making a mess.

It wasn't going very well.

She had only removed half of the cupcake liner and was trying to cradle the cake in her palm as she took a bite. When she ended up with frosting all over her nose and crumbs on her chin, Gold couldn't stop the laugh that burst from his throat.

She narrowed her eyes at him playfully while she scooped the frosting off her nose and that only made him laugh harder. He was breathless with it, peals of laughter making his shoulders shake and the corners of his eyes fill with tears.

When he'd finally gotten himself together again, he helped her angle the cupcake so she could take a bite without wearing so much of it. She hummed happily at finally getting a proper bite, eying him curiously as she swallowed.

"That's the first time I've heard you laugh," Belle mused, her eyes sparkling with warmth and... something else as she looked at him.

Gold felt his heart warm, both at the way she was looking at him and the realization that no, he hadn't laughed like that in a very long time.

"I haven't had much reason to without you," he found himself saying, the quiet confession slipping off his tongue from deep in his heart - from that place of raw honesty that he tried to keep under lock and key, especially around her - before he could think of what it might imply.

It was the closet he had ever hinted at his having feelings for her. She didn't know the truth of it all, and he knew it wasn't fair. If she thought he had feelings for her, that they were perhaps more than mere acquaintances or friends, then she might feel pressured to feel something for him in return. She had loved him once and he had ruined it. He didn't deserve her love again, nor would he have it once her memories sorted themselves out and she remembered all he was responsible for.

Still, even once the words were out he couldn't bring himself to regret them. And he reckoned it wasn't too harmful of a confession when Belle merely tilted her head thoughtfully, watching him for a moment before the corner of her mouth lifted in a soft smile that let him breathe again.

She surprised him when she set the rest of her cupcake on the coffee table and dusted off her hands before settling back on the couch, this time with her shoulder pressed into his side and her head pillowed against his chest.

His breath hitched at how close she was; at how _warm_ she was. If he didn't already love her with every inch of his blackened heart, he would have fallen for her in that moment.

It seemed inevitable that he would love this woman; enthralled with the gentle creature who curled up to a monster whether he had scales or scowls. Whether in leather or a three-piece suit, her softness weaseled its way past every barrier he had ever erected around himself and sunk straight into his heart, chasing away the darkness and the dull thoughts that told him he didn't deserve her. It was some kind of agony - to have her but not have her. But for that moment, it didn't matter. She was there and he loved her and it was enough. For as long as she would have him, it would be enough.

So when she lifted her head just enough that her nose brushed his neck and he could feel her breath tickling his skin as she whispered, "You're name isn't Gold," he didn't flinch, nor hesitate, when he told her "No, dearest; it isn't," and smiled into her chestnut curls.


	7. Chapter 7

Belle was starting to remember, and Gold wasn't sure if he was relieved or terrified. Perhaps a mixture of both. Perhaps something else altogether. All he knew for sure was that his breath caught in his throat every time she would say something a little odd; every time she would look at him with that curious tilt of her head, her bottom lip between her teeth as if she was trying to figure something out.

He kept waiting for the moment when she would storm into the room ready to yell at him or slap him (he wasn't quite sure which she would prefer, honestly), but so far it hadn't happened. In fact, for a few days now, there had been nothing more dramatic than her looking at his cane with a bit more confusion than she had before.

She had yet to ask after his true name. She still called him Gold, though he could tell by the way her nose scrunched up when she did that she knew it wasn't right. But, she hadn't asked and he wasn't quite ready to deal with the complications of explaining Rumplestiltskin to her, so Gold he remained. He didn't mind it anyway; not the way Belle said it. He would gladly be Gold if she would just stay his Belle.

"What would you like to do today, my dear?" he asked as he descended the stairs, running a hand through his hair and trying to get the strands - still damp from his shower - to settle into something that didn't look like a wet mop.

He looked up to find Belle leaning over the back of the couch, her chin propped on her arms, watching him with a curved little smile on her face.

"You look nice," she said. As if to prove it, her eyes trailed over his figure, from his head clear down to his feet. Really, he thought himself too old to blush - but there it was.

" _You_  look nice, Belle. I look old," he chuckled, tugging at his tie self-consciously.

She shook her head fondly and got to her feet, stepping around the couch to approach him. Indeed, she looked gorgeous in the blue dress she had on. It was one of a handful of dresses that Ruby had picked out for her when she learned of Belle's fondness for them. Thankfully, they were much more tasteful than the style Ruby was fond of. The color was a few shades darker than Belle's eyes and fell just below her knees.

He was still trying to get used to seeing so much of her legs on display. The first time she'd worn one of this world's dresses, he was pretty sure he'd stood there with his mouth hanging open for a solid minute. It had taken Belle's giggling to snap him out of it. While he was a bit more capable of keeping himself together in the presence of her creamy calves and dainty ankles, the sight still had him enraptured.

Yes, she was gorgeous indeed. And she deserved so much better than an old beast like him.

"Don't say that," she tutted, brushing the lumps out of his shirt before swatting his hands away from where he was butchering his tie (which he blamed on the lack of a mirror and not at all on the way she was looking at him). She folded the rest of the knot herself and tucked it snugly against his collar.

"I think you look handsome," she said, looking up at him. Her palms were resting on his chest now, her small fingers so close to where his heart was skipping erratically that he was afraid she might feel it.

He was too tongue tied to form a response - a deflection, a quip, anything at all - so he just grunted and tried not to breathe too deeply. She smelled incredible, like honey and vanilla, and it was affecting him nearly as much as how close she was and the way her fingers were tracing the little swirls on his dress shirt.

When he didn't argue with her, Belle smiled amusedly, patting his chest before stepping back. He missed her immediately, however relieved he was that he could finally take a breath without embarrassing himself. It took him another few in order to get his throat working again.

"So what will it be? Shall we go for a walk?" he offered shakily.

"Actually," she started to say, clasping her hands in front of her, "I was hoping we might do something... different."

She paused, looking as if she was debating whether or not she should ask. That made him frown. She had to know that he would agree to anything she wished, surely. So why was she so nervous to ask?

"I was wondering if we could visit your shop," she finally told him, her blue eyes hesitant.

 _Oh_.

Gold swallowed hard, a nervous lump forming in his throat at the prospect of taking Belle into town. They had been for a few walks around the neighborhood; never too far from the house but far enough that Belle had met a few of Storybrooke's other residents (she was particularly fond of Pongo) and seen a bit of what their small town was all about.

Main Street, however, would be quite different.

Main Street was full of cars and people bustling about and they were bound to run into people who would ask questions or perhaps even a few who knew her _before_. There was smog and potholes and cracks in the sidewalk that she could trip over and, yes, he knew he was being ridiculous but he couldn't help it. This was _Belle_.

He knew he couldn't keep her locked away forever. He didn't want to. Truly, he didn't. Belle deserved to be in the light, to soak up as much of the world and its possibilities as she was able. But the idea of her being so exposed - and he without his magic to protect them - terrified him. He knew what it felt like to lose her and he couldn't bear that again. Not ever again.

Torn, he looked to where she was standing before him, her hands clasped in front of her as she rolled back and forth on her feet in that way she did when she was excited about something. And she _was_  excited, he realized all of a sudden. There was uncertainty in her blue eyes, to be sure, but they also sparkled with an eagerness that he hadn't noticed at first.

Even more terrifying than the idea of something happening to Belle was the idea of disappointing her. He knew that the possibility of encountering any real threat in this tiny, magic-less town where nothing ever happened was slim. He was, however, very good at disappointing people. And the prospect of having to watch her beloved face fall as he said 'no,' to watch the spark of excitement leave her cobalt eyes because of _him_ , well, that would harm him more than any threat ever could.

So, he took a shaky breath and quirked his mouth in as close to a smile as he could manage with his frayed nerves and said, "Of course we can."

The way Belle lit up was a sort of magic, truly. She bounced on her feet as she stepped forward to kiss him on the cheek - barely more than a quick peck that still managed to suffuse him with heat - before she said something about shoes that he didn't quite process until she was halfway up the stairs because he was too busy staring dumbly after her like a lovesick puppy. When he realized it, he cleared his throat and called up to her to _please_ not wear any of the outrageous heels Ruby had given her.

At least it would be one less thing to worry about.

He set about retrieving his keys from the bowl in the entryway and by the time he had grabbed them, Belle was already tapping down the stairs again. He leaned back to catch sight of her feet, thankfully tucked into a pair of flat shoes. She also had the matching suit jacket for his pants folded neatly over her arm.

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Eager, are we?" he teased.

"I merely wanted to save you the trouble of climbing the stairs," she returned with a shrug, but she gave him a sideways smile.

He hummed as she held it out for him and he slipped his arms through the fabric, shivering as she brought it over his shoulders and helped arrange his hair so it wasn't caught beneath the collar. He barely had time to realize that his cufflinks were still upstairs when she reached around him and opened her palm, offering his favorite gold pair to him. He didn't even realize that she'd noticed such a small detail, but her proud little smile said otherwise and a smile formed on his own face to match hers as he slipped the links into his cuffs.

"Ready then?" he asked, his hand hovering over the doorknob. The question hung just a bit too heavy in the air and he wondered if she realized that he was asking for more than just confirmation that she had everything she needed.

She was watching him, though, that patient, knowing look on her face, and he suspected she knew. Belle always knew.

"I'm ready," she nodded, the words spoken carefully, her way of telling him that yes, she was ready to take this step.

It was only her confidence and his wanting to please her that made him nod and open the door.

Disaster managed not to strike as he locked up and they made their way down the porch steps and away from the salmon house.

He wasn't sure who moved to intertwine their hands first. Perhaps they had both done so at the same time, or perhaps the need to keep her close had him reaching out for her hand without his being aware of it, but he had to admit that the sudden weight of her palm and the way her fingers pressed against his was an immeasurable comfort as they neared the heart of Storybrooke.

They passed a few people as they walked, and more once they reached Main Street. Archie Hopper waved hello from across the street and Pongo gave a happy bark upon seeing Belle. The woman herself seemed rather at ease, humming some soft little tune beside him as her eyes darted this way and that. She seemed entirely oblivious to the stares that they were starting to attract as they neared Granny's. He, meanwhile, was watching their surroundings like a hawk, scowling at people who got too close and daring the rest to do more than whisper among themselves as they looked curiously between the pawnbroker and the young woman beside him.

"You don't have to worry about me so much, you know," Belle said gently, drawing his attention away from where he'd been glowering at Leroy as he left the diner ahead of them.

"What makes you think I'm worried?" he muttered.

Belle chuckled. "Well, for starters, you're squeezing my hand so hard that my pinky is going numb."

He stopped in his tracks and released his grip on her hand with a small sound of dismay. Belle only smiled, refusing to loosen her own grip and keeping their fingers locked. With her free hand, she reached up and brushed a few strands of his hair away where they had fallen in front of his face, her fingers lingering against his cheek.

"And because you're looking at people as if they might turn into a dragon at any moment and steal me away," she added, gazing up at him fondly.

"You might be surprised, dearie," he mumbled, leaning into her touch on instinct, though he tried very hard not to nuzzle her palm like an overgrown cat.

Belle giggled.

"Even if there _were_ dragons," she told him, squeezing his hand meaningfully, "I've never felt safer."

His eyes flew to her face at once, trying to discern if she were serious. Her expression was sincere, but surely she couldn't mean...

"You mean that?" he blurted.

She smiled as if she had been anticipating he wouldn't believe her. "I do."

He was just about to ask her  _how_ when a flash of red over Belle's shoulder caught his eye.

"I'm sure some of your friends would urge you to think differently," he grumbled, gesturing to where Ruby was watching them through the window at Granny's, her arms crossed over her chest and looking as if she might shred him to pieces should he put a foot out of line.

He supposed he had to admire her spunk.

Belle laughed when she caught sight of her friend and waved.

"You know, the way she talks about you, you'd think  _you_ were the dragon," she said with a shake of her head.

Gold felt his shoulders slump. "Perhaps I am."

Belle squeezed his hand gently. "You're not."

"Belle, I'm not nearly as good a man as you may think," he confessed quietly, memories of everything that was still left unresolved between them coming to mind.

Belle tilted her head to try to catch his gaze, straightening only when he met her eyes.

"I know who you are. And I see a good man. That's all that matters to me," she told him.

Gold rather hoped that there wasn't anyone watching them at the moment because he was sure that his expression looked as awestruck as he felt. He couldn't help it. She was an amazing creature, his Belle. Her unwavering belief in him, then and now, were what made him good, even with the darkness in his heart. She saw a good man because she created one. He was nothing without her.

"I don't deserve you, you know," he admitted, but he smiled at her anyway, his cheeks feeling warm.

"Mm, let me be the judge of that," she insisted, and he knew better than to argue with her any further. "Now where is this shop of yours?"

Gold laughed and gestured with his head past Granny's. She didn't let go of his hand as they resumed their trek down Main Street, their arms swinging gently between them, and if Gold spent less time glaring at people and more time with his eyes devotedly watching after Belle, well, he didn't think anyone would mind.

"Welcome to Mr. Gold’s Pawnshop, my dear," he announced when they arrived in front of the teal building bearing his name.

Belle was already peering through the blinds impatiently and he felt like laughing again. He placed his hand on the small of her back and tried to steer her towards the door as he pushed it open, the familiar jingle of the bell welcoming them.

Belle hopped over the small step and he had a moment to be thankful, again, that she hadn't worn heels before his attention was taken up by the adorable little squeal she made as she stepped inside. He closed the door behind them and leaned against it to watch her spin slowly in place, her eyes trying to take in as much of the dusty, cluttered shop as possible.

"This is incredible," she whispered breathlessly.

"Most people find it stuffy," he said with a smirk.

"Nonsense," she insisted with a little scrunch of her nose. "I love it. Just look at all this stuff."

She was already peering into the display cases, her hands clasped behind her back as if she was trying to keep herself from touching everything. She'd done the same thing when she arrived at the Dark Castle. Her resolve hadn't lasted long, he remembered. It was no matter. Belle could touch all she wished, if it made her happy.

"Can you imagine all the stories there are in here?" She turned her wide blue eyes, full of wonder, on him.

"I'll be sure to tell you all of them one day," he promised. In fact, the idea quite appealed to him; Belle fluttering about his shop as he worked, asking about this and that, maybe even greeting customers as if she were the lady of the shop.

Even a beast could dream.

"There's more in the back," he offered once she'd made her way around the room. He lifted the curtain that separated the two rooms and gestured inside with his cane.

"There's  _more?"_  She ducked under the curtain and gasped at the sight that awaited her.

Unlike the front of the shop, there were no display cases in the back. No, items were strewn about on every flat - and uneven - surface, free to pick up and examine and tinker with as he (or she) saw fit. It was also home to his worktable, a makeshift kitchen and the cot that he kept in the far corner for nights when he worked late.

Belle seemed intent to look at it all. She found his collection of first editions that he was restoring with the instinct that only a true book lover could have, and he was telling her about some of his recent acquisitions and how he went about restoring them as she explored the far corner of the room.

He should have been paying more attention, but he was so caught up in watching how happy she looked that he barely noticed when she lifted the green blanket from where he had draped it weeks ago. He only noticed when she gasped, her attention riveted to the item it had been covering: his spinning wheel. The same spinning wheel that sat in the main hall of the Dark Castle.

It took his breath away, seeing her beside it once more. While he had spun for many, many years before he had met her, some of his fondest memories of spinning involved her. The day she had asked if she could watch him spin, for instance. She hadn't been at the Castle long. He still presumed her to be quite fearful of him, still, so it had taken him by surprise when she had lingered after delivering his tea. He had felt her gaze on his back and hadn't been able to concentrate. When he turned around, intending to taunt her for staring, he'd been caught off-guard by the way she was leaning against the table, her chin propped on one of her hands and a dreamy, far-off look on her face as she watched him spin.

He never managed to get a word out. Instead, she did, asking, "May I?" with her delicate eyebrows raised. He was nodding before he had even decided to do so and simply sat there with a stunned look on his face as she came around the table and sat down on the stool beside him as if he wasn't the vile dark sorcerer who had stolen her from her family and made her cook his meals. 

His hands had fluttered about nervously before he put them back to work, but they kept shaking and the straw kept snapping as he tried to load it. He had expected Belle to laugh at him for being so flustered by her, but she merely reached forward and wrapped one of her dainty little hands around his, steadying him as she helped load the straw. Even now he could feel her touch. It had been the first time anyone had touched him kindly in _years_. 

He managed to get the wheel spinning properly more out of instinct than anything else, and was soon filling his basket with his signature gold thread. Belle sat beside him all the while, her presence somehow bringing him even more peace than his spinning. He started to fall in love with her that day, in their shy glances and Belle's warmth beside him. That day, for the first time in so long, he had spun to _remember_.

"It's a spinning wheel," he said gruffly, watching as Belle reached for the wheel. He shivered as her fingers brushed along the dark grain, tracing over the curved wood with the barest touch of her fingertips. Then she set it into motion with a practiced flick of her wrist, tilting her head as it creaked to life and the sound echoed through the quiet room.

"It helps you forget," she said as she looked up at him.

His heart skipped a beat at her words, memories of mahogany curtains and a ladder and a spinning wheel flitting through his mind as his eyes stung with tears.

_Why do you spin so much?_

"It does," he nodded.

She bit her bottom lip for a moment, looking at the wheel and then back at him. "Will you show me how it works?"

"Of course," he answered easily, grateful for the distraction. He lowered himself onto the small bench beside the wheel and set his cane aside. He retrieved a small roving of wool (not straw; not here) from the basket beneath the table and worked it with practiced fingers, adding it to the strand of yarn he had already started. He was about to tap his foot to the treadle when Belle's voice made him falter.

"May I?" she asked.

He dropped the wool and looked up to find her smiling at him, a tiny, knowing smile at the corner of her mouth. He couldn't find the words to answer her, so he just pat the spot beside him awkwardly and wondered if she knew that he'd left it open - he always left it open - just for her.

She sat down beside him, their arms brushing and their thighs pressed together. He gulped when she rested her hand on her knee. Her touch radiated warmth every bit as much as she did and he had to breathe through his mouth just to clear his head enough to remember what he was doing. As he picked up the roving, he could feel Belle's eyes on him once again flustering him to distraction.

His hands shook, but he managed to get everything in place and set the wheel in motion, spinning about a foot or so of yarn before he paused to show the results to Belle. She ran the tip of her finger over the soft string, and he felt a little pang of pride at the small hum of approval she made.

"It's not gold, but it will do," she teased, looking sideways at him.

Gold laughed and caught her hand in his, an amazed smile on his face as he brought her palm to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her soft skin.

"Aye, I suppose it will."


	8. Chapter 8

"Are you _sure_  you don't mind?" Belle asked him for the third time, wringing her paint-stained hands and looking at him so guiltily that he was caught between laughing and rushing to reassure her. He settled for picking one of her hands up in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I promise, it's no trouble at all," he assured her again. Indeed, he was more than happy to run to Granny's to pick up lunch for them.

They had planned on eating lunch together at Granny's today. It would have been Belle's first time to the town's favorite eatery. He supposed he should have known that plan wouldn't work out.

The previous day, Belle had mentioned that she thought the library could use some lightening up. He didn't think she meant much by the comment. It was said offhandedly along with something about it almost being spring (and that, he _did_  pay attention to). She moved on to another topic afterwards, but the comment stuck with him.

_It's almost spring; you should let some light in._

Belle always had liked lighter colors. It was the reason why her room was soft blues and whites. His, along with most of the house, was all cherry wood and dark colors. Seeing as she used the library much more often than he did, it seemed like a brilliant idea to let her personalize it a bit. There were no curtains to take down in that room, so he went for the next best thing. He called Dove and ordered paint.

Of course, Belle was so excited about the idea that the second she discovered the paint on the porch that morning and asked him about it, it was all she could do not to race up to the library right that second and get started. He'd managed to get breakfast in her first, using the last of the groceries, before joining her for a morning of getting paint mostly on the walls but also on every stitch of clothing they were wearing. Belle even had some smeared on her cheek. It made him smile, though, so he hadn't mentioned it yet.

Now it was past lunch time and he could hear Belle's stomach growling from across the room and the refrigerator was empty. Seeing as he was the less messy of the two of them - which he attributed to the fact that he simply had more layers on than she did - he had offered to go pick up something from Granny's while she cleaned up.

"It's my fault," she said, ducking her head sheepishly. "I didn't think it would take quite so long."

Gold laughed and let go of her hand to lift her chin with his fingers. "You weren't the only one spilling paint on their shoes, dearest," he reminded her. He had been as unfamiliar with painting as she was. He was accustomed to magic, not paint rollers. "But I think it was well worth the effort, don't you?"

Belle looked around, and he knew he'd won her over by the proud smile that came over her face. "You don't think it's too bright?"

Gold gave a little hum, surveying the room and pretending to consider for a moment before he looked back to where Belle was watching him hopefully. "I'll get used to it," he told her with a little quirk of his mouth.

Belle tilted her head at his answer, considering him for a moment with narrowed eyes before she laughed and nodded. 

"Now, shall I get us some hamburgers?" he asked. 

Even if she had wanted to argue with him, her stomach betrayed her by grumbling loudly at the mention of her favorite meal. Gold laughed as Belle wrenched her face in a pout at having been sold out. It was adorable.

"In the meantime, why don't you go get cleaned up? You have paint on your cheek," he smirked.

Belle gasped, her hand flying to her face as she felt around for the splotch of blue just to the right of her nose. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"And miss that look on your face?" he teased.

Belle swatted his arm lightheartedly, her attempt to look stern failing miserably as she smiled. "You're terrible."

Gold scoffed, feigning hurt as he pressed his palm to his chest, making Belle giggle. "I'll be back in a bit," he told her, waiting for her to nod her acknowledgment before he made his way down the hall.

He changed his suit before he left, tossing the old one carelessly over a chair. The expensive fabric was dotted with paint stains and he didn't care in the slightest. It had been a rather successful morning, in his opinion.

Belle was just starting the shower when he left, deciding to walk to Granny's rather than bother with the car. It took nearly as long anyway. The lunch crowd at the diner was just thinning out as he arrived, and he pretended not to notice as the noise of the patrons tapered off at the sound of his cane tapping along the cold tile.

Ruby was behind the counter filling coffee pots and he cleared his throat to get her attention. 

"Oh, Mr. Gold. What can I get for you?" she asked, pulling her notepad from her apron and eyeing him narrowly over the top of it. 

"Two hamburgers, dearie," he ordered, reaching for his wallet. 

Ruby raised an eyebrow. "One with ketchup and one with extra pickles?"

"I charge extra for those," Granny announced as she walked by and Gold rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

"As I am well aware," he muttered before nodding to Ruby. He pulled a few bills from his wallet and slid them across the counter. 

It was only a few minutes before Ruby was returning with a takeout container.

"I added a slice of apple pie for Belle. And, uh," she paused, "there's some chocolate chip cookies, too."

She was looking at some spot over his shoulder and her lips were pursed as if she were doing something unpleasant, but Gold could recognize a peace offering when he saw one. Granny's lasagna may be over-praised (and over-priced), but the woman could make a delicious chocolate chip cookie. He was keen on ordering them on the rare occasion he stopped by, slipping the small package into his suit pocket to nibble on in the privacy of the shop. He had more sweets at home now that Belle was there (she managed to surpass even his raging sweet tooth), but it was a welcome and thoughtful surprise nonetheless. 

"Thank you, Miss Lucas."

"Don't mention it," she said, waving a manicured hand in the air. "Tell Belle I said hello."

"Of course," he said, nodding once before retrieving the take out bag from the counter and making his way out of the diner, telling himself as he did that perhaps he might go a little easier on the werewolf in the future.

Gods, but he really was going soft.

He didn't look much at his surroundings as he made his way back to the salmon house, but a small stand outside the post office couldn't help but catch his eye. Well, not the stand so much as what they were selling. He recognized the Game of Thorns logo rather easily, especially considering that he had repossessed the proprietor's truck last month. Moe French wasn't operating the small booth, thankfully, but he didn't notice that until after he saw the roses. Single, long-stemmed, red roses. Roses just like the one he had given Belle in the Dark Castle, minus the fact that these probably weren't conjured from any knights. Probably.

His mind, of course, had immediately gone back to that day so many years ago. To the way she had sat beside him, her hair glowing in the light she had insisted on letting into the Dark Castle. To the way she'd asked to know him. To the smile on her face and the way she'd curtsied when he gave her a rose. 

Oh, but he was head over heels for her by then. And the way she had looked at him... it was the first time he had thought, just for a moment, that she might feel something for him in return.

"M-Mr. Gold?" the woman behind the booth stuttered, looking at him nervously. "Can I get something for you, sir?"

He was about to tell her no and walk away, but for some reason he couldn't stop looking at the small blooms, nor thinking of the way that Belle had recognized his spinning wheel. Perhaps...

An idea was forming in his mind. It could be a terrible idea, and he really should have thought it through more thoroughly, but he had already pulled out his wallet and passed the woman a large bill. She gasped and rushed to her small money drawer, trying to fumble around for some change, but Gold paid her no mind. His eyes were on the flowers, searching for the perfect bloom. He found it, finally: a dark red spiral barely bloomed and almost an exact replica of the one he had made for Belle.

He smiled at the sight of it and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket. It didn't really fit, of course, and he had to leave the fabric loose so it wouldn't crush the delicate petals, but it wouldn't do for anyone to see Mr. Gold walking down Main Street with a rose in his hand. He figured his lovestruck expression whenever he was around Belle was harmful enough to his reputation as it was.

The woman running the stand was still trying to hand him his change, but he told her to keep it in exchange for not telling her boss about his visit. A fair deal, he thought. Rose in his pocket and lunch in his hand, he made his way home.

It was still a wondrous thing, to walk in the front door and announce he was home to someone. His home felt warm and lived in, and the books scattered over every flat surface in nearly every room was a price he would readily pay to have Belle calling out that she would be down soon.

"Apparently, hair and paint and warm water isn't a good mix," she grumbled from somewhere upstairs. He heard one of the cabinet doors in the hallway close - the one with all the spare towels - and the light patter of feet running down the hall and he couldn't help but laugh at what he imagined was happening up there.

It gave him the time he needed to get their lunch ready (well, unpacked). He set the rose in a small vase and tucked it away for later just in time to hear Belle skipping down the stairs. 

"Remind me to wear a hat next time," she chuckled as she came into the dining room. Gold was glad he had already set their plates on the table because Belle looked positively gorgeous. She had changed her dress (belatedly, he wondered if the fact that she had chosen something with roses on it was a good omen) and her hair was freshly dried and pulled into into a loose ponytail.

He couldn't help but be struck by how much she had improved since the night they found her in the hospital basement. The dark circles under her eyes were gone, her cheeks no longer hollow but full and pink. The welts on her wrists and the bruises on her arms had faded, leaving only creamy, perfect skin behind. Her eyes sparkled and though there were moments when the evidence of what she had been through were obvious (her back was still littered with scars that wouldn't fade and her nightmares still woke her most nights), for the most part she looked healthy and, he noticed with pride, _happy_.

"You look beautiful," he said quietly, unable to help himself. He was glad for it when Belle blushed, scrunching her nose as if she couldn't quite believe it. It just made her all the more so.

"Hm. I think that's the hunger talking," she quipped, giving him a sideways smirk.

Gold laughed and held her seat out for her before settling in his own chair across from her. Of course, hamburgers weren't exactly suited for conversation, so the table was rather quiet save for the sound of Belle's giggle when he looked on, aghast, as she swiped some of his pickles. He paid her back in stolen French fries, though, the two of them happily finishing their plates. When they were done, he offered to take the dishes to the kitchen and prepare them tea, waving Belle off to the living room. 

When he was sure she was settled on the couch with a book, he retrieved his beloved tea set from its place in the back of the cupboard. It was the same delicate porcelain set from the Dark Castle, every piece restored and as pristine as it had been then - save for his precious chipped cup. _Their_  chipped cup. He cradled the small cup in his hand, the sight of it, as always, filling him with nostalgia. There had been a time when it was all he had left of her; his talisman as he tried to comprehend her parting words, as he thought over the shy glances and small touches and tried to believe that maybe she had been telling the truth about her feelings, and then his lifeline when his soul had shattered the day Regina told him of her death.

But he wasn't left with an empty heart and a chipped cup any longer. She was here; and his heart was full as ever it could be. And though their cup remained chipped, he thought it was perfect.

He didn't know what he was hoping for by bringing it to light now. A small part of him hoped that he might help spark something. He knew it might not be the wisest idea. Dr. Whale himself had pulled him aside to warn him not to try to push Belle's memory. Her blood tests may have come back normal, the medications may be almost completely out of her system, but the mind was a fragile thing and Belle had had to concur with the curse as well as a cocktail of drugs designed to warp her real memories. She needed time to sort through the haze.

Another part of him _wanted_. Wanted her to remember. Good and bad, better or worse, he wanted her to have it all back. To have everything that made Belle, Belle. She deserved to have her life back, no matter what it meant for him. He loved her enough that he was willing to lose her so she could be herself.

'No one decides my fate but me,' she always said, and he wanted to honor that. He wanted to give her back her choice. 

_Be brave and bravery will follow._

It was with that in mind that he set their chipped cup on the serving platter alongside the white and blue tea set. He filled the pot and fetched the rose from its hiding place nearby, then he took a deep breath and brought the tray to the living room.

She was so engrossed in her book that she didn't look up as he set it on the table beside the couch, but he had been expecting that. He took advantage of her distraction and picked up the rose, finally clearing his throat to get her attention.

She looked up with a warm smile, her eyes going to his face before they dropped to the token in his hand.

"For you, Belle. If you'll have it," he said, his voice uneven but his smile sure and warm. Bowing was a tad awkward with his cane, but he managed, offering the rose to her.

Belle, for her part, lit up. She set her book aside without marking it (a rare feat) and stood, accepting the rose with a little giggle.

"Why, than-" she cut off, her eyes going over his shoulder and suddenly her whole body faltered.

Her fingers were pinched around the stem of the rose, their fingers brushing as they held it together in that moment just before she took it and he let go. And then she dropped her arm. He turned his head, looking between her face and the tea set where her eyes were locked, wide and... frightened.

He realized with alarm and dismay that this had just gone terribly, terribly wrong.

"Belle?" he said softly.

She didn't say a word. She swallowed hard, and with her eyes still glued to the tea set, she stepped around him and reached out with a trembling hand for their cup. He was clutching the rose like a shield, unable to do anything but watch as she cradled the small piece of porcelain. Her thumb ran over the small chip in the rim and he was so busy watching her that he didn't see the tears until he saw one land on the back of her hand.

"Belle? Belle are you alright?" he cried, reaching for her. Anguish filled his chest when Belle immediately took a step back from him.

Her wet gaze made its way up to his slowly. "It's... It's chipped," she said, her voice broken and vulnerable, her eyes almost pleading.

And then she ran. Still clutching the chipped cup, she flew up the stairs and he had barely reached the steps, calling her name, when she closed the door to her room with a hard 'thud.' He clamored up the stairs after her, pressing his forehead against her door and his hand just beside it, wishing with everything he had that he could take it all back.

"Belle, please. What..." _What did I_ do? "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Will you talk to me? Please, Belle?"

She never closed the door. She didn't like closed rooms and now she had shut herself away - shut him out - and it was all his fault. They had been having a wonderful day and she had been smiling and he was an absolute fool.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered, her muffled cries from the other side breaking his heart into a thousand pieces. He slid to his knees, welcoming the pain in his ankle as he shuffled backwards until his back hit the wall. He drew his knees up and slung his arms over them in defeat, determined to wait as long as it took for Belle to open the door.

Seconds turned to minutes and the minutes added up until he'd been there for well over an hour. He could hear nothing from the other side of the door and his whole body felt numb but he wasn't sure if it was because of the awkward position or the fact that he may have just ruined everything.

He heaved a heavy sigh and pushed away from the wall, shifting awkwardly as he got to his feet only to stare forlornly at the door to Belle's room. Defeated, he turned and made his way to the kitchen, busying his hands with making a warm cup of tea and sure to pour it into one of his regular mugs before slumping back up the stairs.

"Belle, may I come in? I promise I'll leave again if you wish. Just let me leave you a cup of tea," he pleaded. She didn't answer.

He fisted his hand around his cane, torn between the need to make sure she was alright and the determination to respect her privacy. In the end, his concern won out.

"I'm going to open the door, sweetheart." He waited a few moments and when she didn't answer with a protest, he twisted the knob and poked his head inside. "I'll just..."

He didn't finish his sentence. He didn't need to.  There was no one to hear it. He pushed the door open fully and stepped inside, his eyes darting everywhere at once but it was no use. 

Belle was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Gold was only vaguely aware of the sound of the mug hitting the floor and even less so of the tea that splattered over his shoes as he surveyed Belle's empty room. He called her name, but he knew from the fact that her window was wide open, the cool breeze fluttering the curtains, that she probably wouldn't answer.

There was a trellis beneath her window. A sturdy, white ladder of wood that he had painted and restored himself not many months ago. Somewhere, he was glad that it happened to be outside _this_  room, of all rooms, and that Belle had at least not had to jump or fashion some kind of makeshift ladder out of her sheets. Still, it was little comfort when the reality of the situation really hit him.

Belle was gone. She was gone, and it was as if his entire existence was a rug that had just been pulled from under his feet and he was left trying to find his balance in a world that felt as if it might topple over at any moment.

He wasn't aware of his hand fumbling for his cell phone in his pocket, nor of the number he dialed, just that the next thing he knew he was bent over the windowsill with the receiver pressed to his ear when a familiar voice chimed through.

"Emma, I... I need your help. Please. I don't know where she is. She... She just left, and..." he rambled, his voice panicky as he scanned the yard for a head of chestnut curls.

"Hold on, Gold," she cut him off, her voice concerned. "Just slow down. What happened? Is Belle alright?"

Gold made a choked sound. "I don't know."

And he didn't. He didn't know if she was safe. She could be cold, confused, lost, hurt. She could have remembered who he was and what he had done and decided she needed to get as far away from him as possible. He didn't _know_.

"Emma, I..." he pleaded, not knowing exactly what he was trying to say and uncaring of the fact that his voice was breaking as he tried to figure it out.

"Hey, we'll find her. I promise," she assured him, her voice turning into that of the town sheriff. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"A-About an hour ago? She was..." he paused, wincing, "upset. I thought she would want to be left alone."

There was a ruffling sound on the other line, and then he heard Emma say, "Hey kid," her words muffled as if she had put her hand over the mouthpiece.

"Alright, we should-" she said at full volume before she paused. "Henry, now's not a good time."

Gold frowned, caught between trying to hear what the lad was saying and wishing he would be quiet so they could focus on finding Belle. Emma had stopped trying to muffle the sound, so he was able to hear the boy insisting his mom listen to him.

"I _saw_  someone," Henry insisted, and Gold immediately perked up.

"Saw who? Did he see Belle? Where?" rushed out of his mouth and Emma had to tell him to hold on so she could ask.

"A girl. Well, a lady. She had brown hair and she was wearing a dress with flowers on it," he heard Henry say, and he had barely gotten through her hair color before Gold was on his feet, down the stairs and out the front door.

" _Where?_ " he asked urgently, pacing on the front porch as he waited to be told which direction to go in.

"She was heading towards the woods. By the old well," the boy said, speaking louder now as if he'd caught onto the fact that Gold was on the other line. Bless him. "I tried to ask if she needed help, but I don't think she heard me."

Gold nodded, relief now mixing with the worry in his chest as he hurled himself down the steps and in the direction of the woods. He knew exactly where Henry was talking about. There was only one well in Storybrooke; the one that held what remained of the waters of Lake Nostos. The fabled waters were said to return what was lost, and he hoped that remained true even in this world.

"Alright, let's go kid," Emma said, and he heard the jingling of keys in the background.

"No. I know where she is," Gold said tightly, his breath already ragged from the pace he had set. "I'll find her."

"You sure?" Emma asked after a pause, and he would have taken some offense to that if it weren't for the very real concern in her voice that told him she simply wanted to help, not that she didn't think he could find her himself.

"I'm closer," he said as he reached the path that led into the woods. It was still a ways down from the well, but it was certainly closer than the sheriff's office on the other side of town. "Besides, I don't want a crowd to scare her."

If she stumbled across the well, she might stop there. If she did, he had a chance of catching up with her.

"Alright," Emma grumbled, not sounding happy about it but relenting regardless. "Call me if anything goes wrong, or if you can't find her. I'll be there in five minutes."

Gold felt the corner of his mouth twitch. It should take double that, but he didn't doubt that she would somehow make it happen, and he appreciated her fervor.

"You have my word, Miss Swan." He flipped his phone closed and dropped it in his pocket, his eyes scanning the forest for any sign of Belle.

The well should be just around the next bend, if he remembered correctly, and though his ankle was throbbing, he increased his pace even more to close the distance. The pain was nothing, really, compared to the dreadful way his heart was thudding in his chest.

At last, the old brick came into view, the palings almost covered in green moss and the rafters bending from years in the Maine rain, but unmistakably a well, nonetheless. There was no immediate sign of Belle, but he tried not to panic. She could be on the other side, or blocked by the trees.

Gods, he hoped so.

He kept his ears perked as he neared the small clearing, and his breath caught when he heard the snap of a dried twig nearby. He made his way around the well and there were no words for the relief he felt at the sight that awaited him on the other side.

Belle was sitting on the forest floor, her back against the base of the well and her legs crossed, their cup cradled in her hands where they rested in her lap.

"Belle?" he called gently, trying not to alarm her even though he was pretty sure it was impossible not to hear him coming with all the racket he'd made through the brush. 

She looked startled at the sound of his voice, though. She flinched, her blue eyes wide when they landed on him. There was a moment where he feared she might run, but he barely had time to think it before he saw her shoulders relax.

"Hey," she said softly.

He took a deep, shaky breath of relief and, before he could talk himself out of it, gestured to the spot beside her with a little raise of his eyebrows. "May I?"

"Of course," she said at once, scooting to the side a bit as if to make room for him even though she didn't need to.

He took it as a good sign though, and bent awkwardly to his knee before flopping on the floor next to her. It was as ungraceful a maneuver as he'd ever seen, but it was worth it to feel the warmth of Belle's knee where it brushed against his outstretched leg. He was still reeling from having discovered she was gone that even that small touch was enough to ground him; to remind him that she was here and safe. He hadn't lost her.

So focused was he on that thought that he didn't immediately notice that Belle was watching him until she ducked her head to try to meet his gaze, frowning at his expression.

"I worried you," she said with a sigh.

Unable to lie to her, he admitted, "Aye, you did."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," she told him, her voice fraught with guilt. "I panicked. The cup... I just panicked. I had to get out of the house."

He nodded. "I understand, Belle." Truly, he did. "All that matters is that you're alright."

He was so very grateful when she reached for him because he didn't quite have the courage to do so himself. The feel of her hand, her fingers tucking perfectly between his, was an immeasurable comfort, and with it he finally felt his heartbeat calm.

"I'm glad you found me," she said, squeezing his hand gently.

He looked to where she was sitting beside him, her blue eyes watching him and the corner of her mouth turned up in that way that made her cheek dimple. He wondered if she knew how much he meant it when he said, "I'm glad I found you too, Belle."

She was quiet for a moment, chewing her lip as she fiddled with the cup in her lap. 

"You tried to find me before," she whispered.

"W-What?" he stuttered.

"I saw it in the mirror. She made me watch," she said, her eyes suddenly far away and her brow furrowed in concentration. "You tore apart that whole tower looking for me; ripped through the earth around it. T-The bones... All of it. And I saw what you did to your collection in the Castle. All except this."

She paused as she gestured to their chipped cup where it lay in her palm, the white porcelain shining in the streams of light that filtered through the trees, and he knew now why she'd fled.

He remembered that day, of course. Vividly. The Queen had paid him a visit, told him about the tragedy that had befallen Belle after her return home. He'd been unable to wait a full minute after she'd left before he had magicked himself to Avonlea, desperate for proof that the witch was lying. What he'd found instead was traces of Belle in the castle tower, her blood smeared on the brick walls, shackles and whips and, finally, her broken remains scattering the earth below. There were no words for the anguish he had felt, holding the tattered scraps of her blue dress and crying her name into the wind.

The blood had been hers, of that he had been certain. His magic recognized her almost as well as it did himself, and it had burned at the sight of it streaked against the tower walls, smeared on the dress he had made for her. Even the remains he'd found had felt of her. He never suspected that Regina might have forged any of it; never considered her capable of the pain that it would have meant causing to put such a ruse into place.

Oh, what a fool he had been.

Finding her here in Storybrooke could never make up for how terribly he had failed her when she needed him most.

"Belle..." he whispered, guilt stabbing at his chest. He ached with it, with an apology that would never be enough to make up for what he had done - and failed to do.

"She wanted me to know that you would never come looking for me. That you would never find me," she went on, turning the cup this way and that before she raised her head to meet his eyes. "But you did. You did find me."

_Yes, thirty years too late._

"How much do you remember?" he choked out, his voice hoarse and his head ducked with shame.

"Not all of it," she said. "But enough."

He forced himself to nod, the realization that she knew, now, making him simultaneously want to cling to her and give her space. He told himself to release her hand, that she wouldn't want his touch, but his body refused to listen to him.

"S-Should I go?" The question was barely more than a whisper, his voice no louder than the wind that flew nearby, making leaves stir at their feet. So light, his words, and yet his whole world lay in the balance.

Belle shifted beside him, scooting around so she faced him. She set their cup at her side and moved her fingers instead to lift his chin, encouraging him to meet her gaze.

Her blue eyes were soft as she regarded him, no trace of the bitterness and anger he expected to see. "Will you answer just one question for me?"

"Anything," he said at once. 

She took a deep breath and tilted her head thoughtfully. "Do you love me?"

It was not the question he expected, though it was perhaps the easiest one she could have asked of him. Of course he loved her. Loving Belle was like breathing - effortless and impossible to stop. He loved her down to the very recesses of his soul, and no matter how much he told himself that he didn't deserve her, it did nothing to change the way his heart ached for her.

He had denied loving her once, and it had been one of the biggest mistakes of his life. He thought he had lost her without her ever knowing the truth and had wished, every moment since, that he could have told her. Now, here she was, looking at him so hopefully it was impossible.

He didn't want to pressure her. He was fully aware that she may never feel the same way about him. But he couldn't deny the truth when it was asked of him. Not again.

"Yes," he said, his eyes filling with tears. "Yes, I love you, Belle."

He held his breath as he waited for Belle's response, and was stunned when she smiled. He didn't mean for his eyes to drop to her mouth, but he was just so surprised by the fact that she was _smiling_  after everything she had learned that he couldn't look away. He noticed, then, when her mouth came closer, when her tongue darted out to brush over her bottom lip.

He felt a shiver work its way down his spine and he knew he needed to look away, but the sight of her blue eyes so close didn't bring him the relief he thought it would. Somehow, it made him melt even further when he looked up to find them darker than usual, little pools of sapphire that looked warm enough to melt glass. He saw her gaze flicker down to his mouth just a moment before he closed his eyes and then his lips were on hers and everything - every thought - fell away except _Belle_.

Gods, but her lips were softer than he remembered. He had held onto that brief but cherished memory of her kiss in the Dark Castle all those years ago, the feel of her lips pressing against his. But this... well, this was absolute heaven. She had tilted her head just enough that their mouths slanted over each other, the pressure so tender that it was barely more than a caress, but his heart still felt like it had burst from his chest, exploding in a blast of white light.

Distantly, he knew what was happening. Impossible as it was, in this land without magic, there was no mistaking the power of True Love's kiss. But this time, rather than pull back, he chased it, cupping Belle's face between his palms and kissing her back with everything he had. 

He wasn't prepared for the little moan she made, nor the way it would affect him to hear it. His chest was heaving when he finally parted from her mouth. He opened his eyes and saw Belle part her mouth with a small gasp, the both of them trying to find their breaths again. He was still holding her, and she was still letting him, leaning into his touch as he brushed his thumbs over her cheeks.

When she finally opened her eyes, they were glittering with tears, but also with a warmth and a softness that took his breath straight away again.

"I love you too, Rumplestiltskin," she said, the most brilliant smile alighting her beautiful face.


	10. Chapter 10

"B-Belle?" he whispered breathlessly, his palms cradling her face between his hands as he looked on with stunned disbelief. Belle had said his name - his true name - and wasn't running in the other direction. In fact, she was _smiling_ at him.

It wasn't one of the shaky, uncertain smiles she'd given in the days following her release from the hospital. It wasn't even one of the wider, warmer smiles she'd started to make when he made a quip or had Dove deliver a tub of ice cream. Those smiles were lovely, and precious, and he loved to watch the way her blue eyes shimmered when the corners of her mouth dimpled.

But this... this smile was something else entirely. It was the all-encompassing, radiant smile that he remembered from their days in the Dark Castle; the one from tea times and libraries and afternoon walks. It was the one she made when he fell asleep listening to her read or when he surprised her with a book when he came back from one of his deals. It was the smile he had longed for in the years after he'd thought her gone, and vowed to return to her beautiful face when he'd found her again. It was the kind of smile that was like light itself, that made him feel better than he was and worthy in a way he never had been before her.

He never imagined it would be directed at him ever again, but there it was, as unbelievable and enchanting as ever. 

She lifted her hand to his face and brushed her fingers through the long strands of hair by his temple, her eyes traveling over his face like she couldn't quite believe she was looking at him.

"Hello, Rum.”

He whimpered at the sound of his name from her lips, the shortened moniker something he hadn't heard since the day she'd left. He hadn't realized until that moment how precious the nickname had been to him, nor how much he regretted not having been able to tell her so. And now he could. He could tell her everything.

And yet, when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, hugging her so tightly that he was sure she had to be uncomfortable, but she just wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him back. 

"I missed you, Belle," he cried into her hair, the words finally coming. "And I'm so, so sorry. I'll understand if you never want to see me again, but you have to know how sorry I am for everything. I... I never meant for any of this to happen."

His heart sank when she wriggled out of his arms, but she didn't leave, simply placed her hands on his chest and looked up at him.

"Rumple, I _know_ ," she said quietly. "I never blamed you for what happened. I still don't."

"You're too kind, Belle," he winced. 

Belle shook her head. "I'm not being kind. I'm being honest. I was on my way back to you when the Queen found me. She did this, not you."

"She tortured you, Belle," he whimpered, his hands fluttering helplessly. "And I'm the monster that let it happen."

"You're not a monster, Rumplestiltskin," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I never saw one then and I still don't see one now. You are a _good_ man. No matter what you've done in your past or what mistakes you've made, I will always see good in you. You showed me kindness when you didn't have to. You took me in when I didn't remember who I was, and you helped me find myself. You made me fall in love with you all over again."

She reached up and brushed away the tears that had fallen over his cheeks. He couldn't help them; not with what she was saying. He couldn't fathom how she'd ever fallen in love with him once, much less twice. He was a coward and a beast and yet she loved him, somehow. He could see it, even if he didn't understand it, in the way her eyes were watching him softly, as if he were someone she cherished. Even now, after everything. 

"So you.. You're not leaving?" he asked quietly, his voice brimming with a hope he couldn't stop from blooming in his chest.

She smiled, leaning forward and brushing her lips over his tenderly. "Never again."

He pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist, letting her presence chase the rest of his doubt away. There was still so much to say and to make up for, but for now he was content merely to hold her and know that, somehow, she still loved him. And that could get him through anything.

He made a little grunt of protest when Belle straightened a few minutes later, scrunching her nose as she tilted her head to sniff the air. "How long have you had magic?"

Gold frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I can smell it," she shrugged.

He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. He supposed he did feel _something_ , but he had been so overwhelmed with having Belle back that he assumed the warmth flooding through him was simply from the excitement of kissing her again. 

He tried to focus on the spark in his fingertips and waved his hand tentatively. Lo and behold, a cloud of purple smoke appeared in his palm, caressing his skin with such effortless familiarity that it was as if it had never left. When it cleared, a small rosebud remained in its place.

It seemed True Love's kiss didn't just break the last barrier to Belle's memories; it also restored his magic.

"Magic works differently here..." he mused, gasping at the sudden realization of the power running through him. He twirled the rose between his fingertips and then reached up to tuck it into the curls behind Belle's ear. She was watching him curiously, and he could barely contain the urge to tell her, "Belle... I can find my son."

She tilted her head, recognition dawning in her blue eyes. "That's why you made the curse."

He nodded, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. "Bae is somewhere in this land."

She cupped his jaw, smiling. "Then we'll find him."

He shook his head in a daze, stunned at this new world of possibilities that was now, literally, at his fingertips. Then another idea occurred to him.

"Belle, I can heal you. I can give you anything you wish, just name it," he said eagerly. He raised his hands, magic poised. 

But Belle just gave a soft shake of her head and lowered his hands. "All I want is to go home," she said.

"With...?" he asked hesitantly.

Belle giggled. "With you, yes. I just want us to be together, Rum."

Gold had to swallow hard over the lump that her words had caused in his throat. He would never stop being amazed by this woman; his Belle.

"Aye, that I can do, dearest," he promised, a happiness like he'd never felt before thrumming through his veins. It made him feel even more powerful than the magic buzzing just beneath, alight with hope for the possibilities ahead. 

He helped Belle to her feet and, with their chipped cup in hand, they made their way from the forest and back towards the salmon Victorian - back towards home. He tripped over the brush a few times, enraptured as he was with the sight of Belle tucked closely into his side, her arm wrapped around his. He was glad when they finally reached the sidewalk so he didn't have to pay as much attention to his surroundings. 

It confused him, then, when Belle suddenly lit up and waved, drawing his attention for the first time to the squad car that was parked haphazardly over his driveway. 

Its occupants, rather than sitting inside it, were sat atop the hood, swinging their legs over the side of the wheel well. He looked up just in time to see Henry bound off the car and run full speed towards them, his backpack jostling around on his back. Emma was a little slower, shaking her head fondly at her son even though her expression was just as relieved at seeing both him and Belle come out of the woods.

"We were in the area and thought we might stop by to see how you were doing," she said casually.

It didn't appear to fool Belle, though, who gave him a sideways look of suspicion before she giggled. "I'm alright," she told Emma. "Really."

Emma nodded, looking like she was going to say something else until she got distracted by Henry, who looked like he was going to burst from excitement. His wide eyes were trained on Belle, an eager smile on his face.

"Hello," he greeted as soon as he saw an opening.

"Ah, you must be the Henry I've heard so much about," Belle said with a smile.

The lad nodded proudly. "Are you really Belle? Like the princess?" he asked, ignoring his mother's sudden look of warning.

But she needn't have worried. Belle just beamed and let go of his hand to dip into a curtsy, graceful as a queen even without the full skirts. "Lady Belle of Avonlea, at your service, Master Henry."

Henry blushed and stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking up at Belle with something akin to adoration. Rumplestiltskin chuckled. He knew the feeling.

"So- you remember?" Emma asked, looking between him and Belle questioningly. When Belle nodded, she let out a breath of relief. "Good. That's good."

"Now I know which story to read," Henry announced before looking at Gold with a frown. "If only I could figure out who he is. He still won't tell me," he told Belle.

"Ah," she hummed, smirking as she looked over at Gold. "Well, he sure is fond of his secrets, isn't he?"

Henry grumbled, but softened when Belle crouched down next to him.

"I'll give you a hint," she whispered. "He's not nearly as beastly as he thinks he is."

It was Rumplestiltskin's turn to blush now, adoration of his own turning his cheeks pink even as he tried to hide it. Belle giggled and returned to his side, leaning up on her toes to kiss his cheek, which certainly didn't help matters. He wrapped his arm around her waist and smiled into her hair, love practically pouring from him for the woman at his side despite his best efforts to hide it.

"Wait... Beauty and the Beast? _You're_ the beast?" Emma asked, her mouth wide as she glanced between them. Henry had already pulled his backpack off his shoulders and was rifling through it. He pulled out a large storybook a moment later, balancing it in his arms as he flipped it open and tried to thumb through the pages without tipping over.

When the lad appeared ready to plop down in the middle of the road to figure this out, she came to her senses, trying to usher the boy back to the squad car. "Come on, kid. We should let them- catch up, or whatever."

Gold chuckled as she guided a still-reading Henry back to the car, muttering something about 'lucky bastards' under her breath that Gold couldn't help but agree with.

She got in the driver's side with a promise to call them later, and the last thing Gold heard was Henry calling over the seat, "Hey, can you be _two_ people in the book?"

Gold groaned as they pulled away. "The whole town is going to know who I am by dinnertime," he muttered.

"He would have figured it out anyway," Belle chuckled as she tugged him towards the house. "Besides, it's time you stopped hiding yourself away in this big house."

Gold scoffed. "Nobody in this town wants to see more of me, sweetheart."

She stopped before the door, turning to him with a soft smile and a tilt of her head. "I do," she said.

He was blushing as he stared at her, he knew, but he just couldn't stop. Even less so when she laughed at his expression and leaned closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, her blue eyes filled with affection. 

"I want to see you," she continued, "when I wake up in the morning, and just before I fall asleep. I want you by my side at dinner and for tea and when we curl up on the couch to read. I want to see what goes on in that little shop of yours and what the inside of Granny's looks like."

She paused to lean forward and capture his lips with hers, smiling against them as she sipped little kisses and turned him into putty before her.

"I want to see us find Baelfire," she went on, softer now. And she waited for him to meet her eyes before she said, "I want to see us be happy, Rum."

Gold could only look back at the woman before him with awe. Not only was his True Love alive, but she had chosen him, loved him, and offered him the kind of future that he would never have thought possible. He vowed, in that moment, to spend the rest of his life trying to be worthy of the look in her eyes as she gazed back at him.

For now, he cradled her face between his palms and kissed her, hoping that he could show without words how very much she meant to him.

She tasted like honey and sunshine, his Belle. Like light and hope and a love so pure that it had withstood the darkest of days and come out even stronger. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve her and he would never quite accept that he did, but so long as she wished it he would never, ever let her go.

When they parted, chests heaving and silly, lovestruck smiles on both their faces, Gold felt the path before him slip into place at long last. 

Together, they would find Baelfire and bring him home. And then they would find their happily ever after. So long as he had them, he reckoned he'd found his already.

"Thank you for coming back to me, Belle," he whispered as he placed a final kiss to her forehead. 

"I always will," she said softly, and then she took his hand in hers and led them home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well dearies, that's the last chapter of the main portion of this story. I hope you all enjoyed <3 I still plan to follow up with a few prompts, so don't unsubscribe just yet. Also, if there is a scene you'd like to see, prompt me in the comments! I absolutely loved writing this verse and can't thank you all for your support and kudos. Happy Rumbelling.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally get that date at Granny's and Belle runs into an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought we could all use this after that episode. Stay hopeful, Rumbellers.

"So  _this_ is Granny's?" Belle asked as they entered the busy diner, and Gold looked around anxiously as practically every pair of eyes swiveled around to land on them.

"Bit of a letdown?" he quipped, catching the eye of Mrs. Lucas where she was frowning at them from behind the counter. 

Belle seemed to score some points with the older woman when she giggled and said, "Not at all. I think it's wonderful."

Gold just hummed, not wanting to argue with Belle but not quite willing to let Mrs. Lucas hear him agree with her either. 

He placed his hand on her lower back as they sidestepped a few tables in search of an empty booth, unable to help keeping her close. The place was packed to the point that he barely managed not to bump into anyone's elbow as they passed (although he suspected that was more because they moved out of the way for him than because there was actually space to spare). While most of the townsfolk were harmless, his protectiveness over Belle ran too deep to feel comfortable letting her stray too far into the masses. Of course, from what he knew of her, she could probably handle her own against just about any of them. She'd tamed the beast, after all, he reminded himself with a chuckle. 

There was exactly one open booth in the far corner, and he helped Belle into one side before taking the seat opposite her. A quick glance around the room showed that they were still very much at the center of everyone's attention and he frowned as he caught the eye of a few patrons, reminding them to mind their own business.

"Stop that," Belle chuckled, swatting him playfully on the arm.

"I've no idea what you're referring to, dearest," he said airily, clasping his hands on the table before him with a smirk.

"Mmhmm," she hummed, narrowing her eyes playfully. "If you scare them all away, I'll never make any friends."

Gold scoffed. "You, my dear, will never have a shortage of friends."

Belle pulled her lip between her teeth and chewed on it thoughtfully for a moment before she leaned forward. "You think they'll like me?" she asked, her voice suddenly smaller.

Gold softened, his smirk transforming into a reassuring smile as he reached for her hands, folding them between his.

"They'll love you, sweetheart," he said, unable to fathom otherwise even for a moment. She seemed to perk up at his assurance, her smile back with a vengeance as she squeezed his hands to thank him.

Gold felt his chest flutter at the sight and his cheeks warmed at the knowledge that he'd just made her feel better. How she could have doubted herself to begin with was unbelievable, and yet the fact that she found comfort in his reassurance made him almost heady with pride. 

He almost forgot about all the eyes on them until Belle glanced around and looked back at him with a small frown. 

"Does it feel like people are staring at us?" she whispered.

Gold laughed. "Aye. A beautiful woman having lunch with the most hated man in Storybrooke? I suspect they're worried for you, my dear. Obviously I have you under some kind of spell or you're otherwise here under duress." The corner of his mouth twitched with a smirk. 

Belle humphed, her brow furrowing for a moment, but a half a second later her face broke into a grin that he knew meant trouble. He was right, for a breath later she braced her elbows against the table and leaned forward, reaching for his tie and using it to pull him towards her as she slanted her mouth over his.

Had he expected her to kiss him, he may have made more of an effort to smother the groan that rose from his throat, but he hadn't and so the sound poured into her mouth where their lips met, making it feel like she was vibrating against him. Gods, but kissing her was better than any magic he'd ever known. He forgot about the diner and the watchful eyes around them and anything and everything but the fact that her lips were as soft as rose petals and she felt like sunshine and he would never get enough of her. 

When she released him, he fell back into his chair with a stunned expression. Belle, meanwhile, looked rather triumphant across from him, her blue eyes sparkling. 

"There. I think that should clear things up," she said proudly. 

Gold could do little more than blink at her and dropped his gaze to her mouth, wishing they could do that again. She had just kissed him in the middle of a diner that was stuffed to the brim with a good portion of the town's residents. She wasn't ashamed to be seen with him, or seen kissing him, and had basically screamed 'we're together' for everyone to see and it was bloody _incredible_. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, chasing the taste of her and holding onto it with both hands so that it might sate him because now was definitely not the time to allow his feelings for her to run away with him.

A throat clearing nearby did help. He looked up to find Ruby had approached their table, her arms crossed and a delicate eyebrow raised. "Well, looks like things are going well over here," she smirked.

Belle giggled from across the table, the lilting sound making him smile as he finally came out of his haze.

"Sorry, Rubes. I was... making a point," Belle explained with a little shrug.

"Uh huh," Ruby hummed. "Should I get you guys the usual? Or are you two hungry for something else?" she added with a wink that made the both of them blush.

"Just- the usual, Ruby, thank you," Belle said hastily.

The girls exchanged a look before Ruby chuckled and went back to the counter to put in their order. Belle scooted forward in her seat a bit once her friend had left, and he felt her cross her legs, her thigh brushing against him beneath the table. He felt a shiver go down his spine and he cleared his throat as he tried to focus on something - anything - else.

"So I hear the lasagna is good," he blurted dumbly, shaking his head after the words were out because he had no idea where they had come from.

Belle, bless her, just gave him a fond smile and reached forward to take his hand, the touch calming him almost instantly as she led them more proficiently into conversation. Ruby dropped off their iced teas and later their hamburgers, and he had to admit that it really was wonderful to eat across from someone at Granny's for once. When he looked up between bites of hamburger, it was to Belle's blue eyes or her lips wrapped around her straw. When she ended up with ketchup on the corner of her mouth, it was second nature to reach forward and brush it away with his thumb. It felt like a date, and it was wonderful.

Of course, before long their plates were empty and he was left searching for reasons to linger because the light was filtering through the windows just so that it hit Belle's hair and created a little halo of gold that made her look even more beautiful - if that was possible. He reckoned he ordered her a slice of pie simply so he could stretch out their time together, but soon that was gone too and he had no choice but to get to his feet when Granny came by to plop their bill on the table.

"I see why everyone comes here," Belle mused as he helped her to her feet. 

"I suppose it has its own charm," he admitted, though he was looking at Belle as he said it.

He offered her his arm and she tucked into his side with a contented little sigh. The diner was still bustling with patrons, but most seemed to have accepted that Mr. Gold was not, in fact, taking advantage of the young beauty with him and they were able to make their way out the door without causing too much of a stir. That was, at least, until they were outside.

"Belle?! Is that really you?" a gruff voice asked, and Gold looked up to find Leroy stopped dead in tracks facing them, his eyes wide.

"Dreamy?" Belle gasped beside him, and then she let go of his arm and flew down the steps to pull the small man into a hug.

"I can't believe you're here. Where have you been all this time?" Leroy asked, stepping back and stuffing his hands in his pockets when Gold joined them, though it didn't stop the other man from frowning at him.

"I, uh, I haven't gotten out much," Belle said awkwardly, but she was still smiling as she reached out to place her hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "What about you? Did you find her?" she asked eagerly.

Gold looked between the two with confusion, even more so when Leroy blushed. Actually blushed. It was hard to see it beneath the scruffy beard, but his cheeks - and ears - were unmistakably red.

"I-I'm working on it," he mumbled, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Belle beamed at him before turning to look up at Gold. "Rumple, this is Dreamy. I met him just after I left your castle. He's an old friend."

Leroy cleared his throat. "It's Grumpy now, actually."

Belle scrunched her nose, but looked back at the other man fondly. "Well, you'll always be Dreamy to me."

Gold groaned, and the sound seemed to draw Leroy's attention to him for the first time. He looked puzzled for a moment, his eyes going back and forth between him and Belle.

"Wait, _he's_ the one? The man you love?" he gasped.

Belle grinned proudly, looking up at Gold with adoring blue eyes. "Yep." 

Gold couldn't help but smile at that look, his gaze softening as she slipped her hand into his. 

"Well then..." Leroy said, holding his hand out to Gold, "I'm glad you two found each other again."

Gold looked down at his proffered hand with no small amount of disbelief. He and Leroy didn't have a particularly convivial relationship. In fact, he had been quite sure, up until that point, that the man hated him. But there was sincerity in the other man's gaze, and so Gold shook his hand. There was a moment, just before they let go, where Leroy's grip became firmer his face momentarily hardened. Gold heard the message, however silent it was.

_Don't you dare hurt her._

As Gold nodded and Leroy loosened his grip, he returning his hands to his pockets and Gold placing his back in Belle's, he decided that perhaps he might have a newfound respect for the man after all. He let Belle say their goodbyes and heard her promise that they would see each other again soon, and Gold nodded in agreement before they turned to make their way in the direction of home.

Belle was practically bouncing on her feet beside him, her joy almost palpable and filling him with happiness in turn.

"I suppose I'll find some friends after all," she said, leaning into his side.

"Lovely," he mumbled, teasing her.

Belle whirled on her feet and he halted to a stop as she stood before him, reaching for the lapels of his jacket. He decided he changed his mind. Belle in the sunlight was even better than the light filtering through the diner window. She looked positively radiant outside, her cheeks pink and her eyes sparkling like little diamonds where the sun hit them.

"You'll always be my favorite, though," she whispered as if it was a great secret, and he was about to smile when her eyes dropped to his mouth and he felt his train of thought derail. It went, instead, to the taste of her that he swore he could still feel on his lips. And where he had decided earlier that he really shouldn't think about kissing her so much, right now he couldn't think of any reason not to.

He leaned forward just as she lifted up on her toes to reach him, and their mouths met in something soft and absolutely perfect. He felt her smile just before she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, and he had never acquiesced to something so willingly, leaning against her soft curves before he could think better of it.

He felt the tip of her tongue trace over the bottom of his upper lip and Gods but he was thankful they weren't surrounded by half the town any longer because he whimpered as he opened his mouth. She didn't delve too deeply - for which he was disappointed and relieved all at once - but she did brush her tongue against his and he felt his knees go weak. 

"Let's go home, Rum," she breathed against his mouth, her eyes flickering open to meet his as she smiled. This woman would be the death of him, he was sure, as he waved his hand and a cloud of purple transported them home.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They discuss what to do about Regina. Rumple wants revenge. Belle has another idea.

"My answer is still 'no,'" Belle said, her eyes never leaving the page she was reading, her voice enviously calm considering the circumstances - and how un-calm he felt.

"Belle..." he whined. "I can't let this stand. You _know_ that."

Belle finally raised her eyes from the page to glance at his face and when she saw the pleading expression there she sighed and closed her book, turning her full attention on him.

"Revenge is not the answer, Rumple," she urged softly, leaving her spot on the couch to stand in front of him so he wouldn't continue pacing the length of the living room. "What's done is done. Nothing you do to her, no amount of pain you cause, will change what happened to me."

He groaned, struggling to suppress the urge to magic himself to the mayor's house where his former apprentice was being kept and proceed to rip her wretched heart from her chest. The Savior may be too good to kill Regina - but he wasn't.

Only Belle's small hand on his arm was keeping him grounded at the moment; that, and her insistence that she absolutely did not want him taking revenge.

"Belle, she _took_ you from me," he growled, his voice turning hard and his eyes venomous as they flashed with the knowledge of everything Belle had been through under the Queen's care. "She kidnapped you, tortured you, faked your death, kept you locked in a tower and then in a dark cell for thirty years and-"

"And I found my way back to you," Belle interrupted him softly, reaching up to cup his face between her palms. He felt his anger ebb almost immediately and no matter how his magic still roiled with the need to rip something apart, one look at her blue eyes gave him pause and had him leaning into her touch.

"That's besides the point," he grumbled.

Belle chuckled, stroking her thumb over the line of his jaw. "You stubborn man. That is exactly the point. I found my way back to you. No matter what happened, I'm here and we're together. Can't that be enough?"

"Oh Belle..." he trailed off, unable to comprehend such implacable forgiveness as she was capable of. Nor was he able to maintain his anger when she was holding him like that, her mouth but a breath away and her eyes capturing his like twin pools of light.

He let out a heavy sigh, feeling the need for revenge that was surging through his veins just a moment before calm the longer she looked at him. With his head clearer he could admit that, yes, in light of everything that happened, Belle being safe and their being together now really was what mattered most to him. As much as he wanted to make Regina pay, he wanted Belle more, and her happiness most of all.

"Now come read with me," she said, spying the way he was relenting in her grasp. She smiled as she tugged him over to the couch and pushing him back against the armrest so that his feet rested on the cushions.

He had barely had a moment to frown at his shoes before Belle was there tugging the leather soles off his feet and rubbing his in-steps for good measure. She chuckled as he finally relaxed against the couch with a small groan. She made to arrange his shoes under the coffee table, but he couldn't quite wait for all that. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap, and Belle let out a small squeal followed by a giggle of delight as she settled back against him.

He reached for her book where it sat on the table, flipping it open to the page she'd marked and holding it out in front of them both to read. It didn't matter that he had no idea what he was happening. The fact that Belle was lying against him, her hair tickling his cheek and her lips moving in that quiet way they did when she read was plenty enough for him.

Of course, the moment was ruined a few minutes later when she jerked forward slightly and let out a soft wince of pain.

"Belle? What is it sweetheart?" he asked worriedly, dropping the book in favor of fluttering his hands over her to try and figure out what was wrong.

"Nothing," she tried to say, but her voice was strained and she was still stiff in his lap.

He shifted beneath her so he could see her face, his eyes scanning hers. She let out a breath, trying to relax, but her smile was too shaky to be entirely genuine.

"Belle... please?" he pleaded.

She sighed, her eyes warring with indecision before she finally looked at him. "My back... hurt for a moment. But it was only a moment, and it's fine now," she tried to reassure him, but his face had already fallen and he was trying to adjust her so her back wasn't pressing against him.

"Rumple..." she muttered, trying to get his attention. "Rum, stop fussing. Really, it's fine now."

But it was too late. The reminder that she had been and was still hurt because of that sorceress was sending rage flooding through his veins once more, and he was back to beating himself up and wishing he could either take it all back or rip Regina apart to pay back the favor.

Belle sighed and grabbed his hands in hers, trying to still him as she dipped her head to catch his gaze.

"You really can't let this go, can you?" she asked softly. There was no accusation in her voice; no frustration or, worst of all, blame. Just patient understanding as she watched him shake his head.

"I won't let you darken your heart in honor of mine," she told him firmly. "But I have an idea."

She got to her feet and held her hand out for him and he followed her curiously, the darkness settling, at least for the moment, in favor of finding out what she had in mind. She led him upstairs, the climb no trouble for him anymore since he'd used his magic to heal his ankle. Their steps, then, were quiet as she pulled him towards the bedroom, letting go of his hand only when they had reached the end of the bed.

He stood there awkwardly, not quite knowing what to do, but he was quick to let out a little squeak and spin around when Belle started to unbutton her blouse. He heard her chuckle softly and he tried to focus on breathing as he listened to the muffled sound of her sliding the material over her shoulders and then the tap of her feet as she went to drape it over a nearby chair. He felt the bed dip where it pressed against his leg and he heard Belle settle on top of it somewhere, but he kept his eyes firmly fixed elsewhere until she called out for him.

"Turn around," she said, and he swiveled on his feet slowly to find her looking over her shoulder at him, a pillow clutched to her bare chest as the rest of her body faced the headboard. Towards him was the marred skin of her back - the scars that she wouldn't allow him to heal because she insisted she didn't want him expending the magic it would take to do so.

His heart broke at the sight of them, as it always did. Her beautiful, creamy skin torn with long, jagged stripes, twisted and dark with the magic that had been imbued in the sensitive flesh as she screamed out in pain. He hadn't been able to get that image out of his mind since the first time he'd seen what happened to her. She should never have been in harm's way and yet she was punished simply for loving him. He hated himself even more than he hated Regina for that simple fact alone.

Belle calling his name pulled him from his thoughts. "Will it help?" she asked, those gentle blue eyes of hers watching him.

He looked at her tarnished skin and back at her with a small nod. If he could just know that he set things right, erased what pain he was able, it would help. It would be enough.

She reached behind her neck to pull her hair over her shoulder, baring the full expanse of her back to him. "Then will you heal me?"

He whimpered at the permission, at the chance to do  _something,_ even if it wasn't to pay Regina back in full for all the pain she had caused. This was even better. This helped Belle.

He crawled up on the bed and settled behind his True Love, his hands fluttering over her skin eagerly. He always felt most useful when he was doing something. Deep down, he didn't know how else to be worthy of someone like Belle unless he could somehow provide her with something. He knew she would disapprove if she heard him say so, but knowing she didn't feel that way didn't stop his heart from skipping at the chance to prove himself.

She stiffened for the slightest moment as he rested his hands on her shoulders, but she settled into his touch before he could ask if it had hurt. Her small sigh of contentment was enough to assure him that his touch was welcome, and he knew he was pushing his luck when he pressed his nose into the curls cascading over her shoulder, but he couldn't help himself.

"Thank you, Belle," he whispered into her ear, a crooked little smile playing around his mouth.

"You promise you'll stop if it costs you too much?" she asked, turning her head slightly so their foreheads brushed.

He nodded at once and kissed her temple. "Of course, sweetheart."

Belle hummed and settled forward against the cushion she was hugging, and Gold rolled his sleeves up a bit, his smile fading into a look of concentration as he turned his full attention to her back. It wouldn't be easy, this task, and he would likely be exhausted at the end of it. But what Belle didn't quite understand was that _no_  price was too much to pay for her comfort and well-being.

Magic poured from his hands easily, as familiar and effortless as the next breath he took, and the purple smoke that rippled over his fingers before reaching out to touch her skin did so with as much anticipation as he felt upon finally getting to heal her.

He tackled the smallest scar first, eager to lessen her discomfort as quickly as he could. He had to draw the magic from the wound first - the dark, ink-like vein that was wound deep within the scar tissue to burn and tear at the raw flesh beneath whenever it so chose. He eased it from her skin like a blade of straw from his spinning wheel, curling and tugging until it slipped free, but only once it was wound in his palm did he realize what the price of his magic would be. Rather than the magic vanishing once it was released, it seeped into his own skin, and he felt a surge of pain hit him like a bolt of lightning, his whole body going taut as he rode out the wave. It didn't last long; barely a few seconds, but it was a painful reminder of just what Belle had endured upon having them placed into her skin and that reminder hurt even more than the pain he had just endured to remove it.

He grit his teeth as his eyes surveyed the number of scars on her back, each larger than the last, and prepared himself for what was to come. He had no qualms about the pain in store for him - he would endure it for her in a heartbeat. He was a bit more concerned about making sure Belle didn't notice. If she noticed, she might tell him to stop and  _that_ would be unbearable. Already she had turned her head to glance back at him, sensing something was wrong when he paused.

"Rumple? Is everything alright?" she asked with a tiny frown.

He drew his fingers over the scar he'd just cleaning, his magic running over the raised flesh there and healing it until it was smooth once more. He traced the small line left behind, just a shade darker than the surrounding skin, and finally met her eyes. "One down," he told her with as reassuring a smile as he could manage.

Belle closed her eyes with a small sigh, and opened them again with a smile. It was all worth it, that smile. 

When she faced forward again, he began on the next scar, this one slightly bigger and located just below her right shoulder blade. He knew what to expect this time as he drew the magic free, was able to clench his jaw before the pain struck him and recover quickly enough to heal her before she could notice. He managed two more the same way before she called out for him to stop.

Afraid he'd hurt her, he pulled away at once, shifting so he could face her only to find her frowning at him. "It's hurting you, isn't it? That's the price?" she asked.

He considered lying for only a moment before he admitted the truth with a sigh. "It's not that bad, sweetheart."

Her face crumpled anyway and she started to scoot away from him, guilt clouding her eyes.

"Belle, please..." he pleaded, reaching for her. "I need to do this."

"You promised, Rum," she whimpered, looking so anguished at the idea that she was causing him pain that he couldn't bear it.

He reached for one of her hands, squeezing her small fingers both in thanks and in an attempt to get her to understand. "I promised I would stop if it was too much, and I will. But Belle, I have to do this. I'm the reason you have those scars in the first place," he started to say, rushing to finish when it looked like she might argue with him. "I just want to make things right. You were right. Hurting Regina wouldn't do anything to lessen the pain you were put through. But this will."

She pursed her lips at his using her own argument against her, and he would feel bad but for how important this was to him. Instead, he felt only relief as he saw the fight leave her eyes and she softened enough to squeeze his fingers in return.

"Alright," she nodded, settling back against the comforter as he took his place behind her again.

It took nearly an hour for him to make his way though the rest of the scars and by the end of it all he could barely see straight, was hunched over and had sweat pouring from his brow, and his left hand was squeezing Belle's so tightly that he was afraid he was hurting her. She never let him go, though, determined that they see this through together, and as the last (and largest) scar folded away, he knew it had all been worth it. Belle's back was no longer marred with his failure, and though the remnants remained, even those lines would clear with time. She lifted her shoulders, her skin shifting and bringing her none of the discomfort she'd lived with for three decades, and he pressed his brow against her back with a breath of relief as the darkness within him simmered to a calm, purring with contentment even without its bloodshed.

His hands shook as he reached for the small throw at the foot of he bed, wrapping it around her to ward her from the chill and protect her modesty as he pulled her back against him, wanting nothing more in that moment than to know that she was safe and healed as he tried to find his breath and will his body to stop trembling.

He didn't feel Belle ease him onto his side, only noticed that the next moment his head was resting against a pillow that smelled of her and that he could suddenly stretch out his legs. But he just curled around where Belle still lay in his arms, grunting against her neck as she brushed her fingers through his hair.

"Thank you, Rum," she whispered, the sound of the smile in her voice enough that he could see it even with his eyes closed.

And before sleep took him, he nuzzled against her soft skin and willed his mouth to work long enough to say, "You're welcome, my love." And the darkness settled at last.


End file.
